Assassin's Creed: Ashes of the Star
by WhiteZephyr
Summary: Sequel to Bladesong. December 21st, 2012 is ever looming in the distance, and Samantha can't help but reflect on the life she's lived. Through pain, loss, and sadness, she has moved ever forward. She has been driven by duty and a promise, but is it enough to save the earth with Desmond Miles? Or will death be the only salvation? Takes place during ACIII.
1. Prologue

Assassin's Creed:

Ashes of the Star

Prologue

_**2012**_

_Seventy-eight... Seventy-nine... Eighty..._

A bead of sweat dripped from my forehead to the ground, followed by another and another. I concentrated on keeping my body in the air, but it was more difficult than it looked.

_Eighty-one... Eighty-two... Eighty-three..._

I groaned. My muscles bunched. They burned. Something in the back of my mind begged me to stop. It wasn't just my body I was training; it was that stupid voice too.

_Eighty-four... Eighty-five... Eighty-six..._

Then again, I'd never quite got it to shut-up before. I gasped for air. The blood rushed to my head in cascading waterfalls. I prayed that I wouldn't lose count. My body was parallel to the nearest tree, my feet upwards in the air, and only my right arm was touching the ground. I kept my left arm firmly pinned to my side. All I was wearing was a white tank-top and grey sweatpants. My brown hair fell lank to the floor, caked with sweat from my most recent work-out. For now, my robes were laying dormant inside the van, where they would stay for a while.

_Eighty-seven... Eighty-eight... Eighty-nine..._

"You never cease to amaze me."

I closed my eyes. "You're breaking my concentration, Walter."

Walter, as usual, smiled devilishly and strode over to me. He laid on the ground once he reached me, so I got a mini-surprise once I'd opened my eyes. Walter wore a blue sweater that Shaun had lent him for the time being, and he wore dark jeans along with them. His chocolate eyes gazed into my liquid-gold, unwavering. Black hair stood up along his head in the oddest of ways, another trademark of his.

_Don't lose count! Ninety... Ninety-one..._

"Would you hate me forever if I broke your concentration, Sara?" Walter asked in his trademark monotone, his lips curling with an intent that I could only imagine.

"No..." _Ninety-two... Ninety-three... Ninety-four..._ "But I'd probably stab you."

Walter chuckled. _Ninety-five... Ninety-six..._ "I doubt you would. You enjoy my company too much. And I yours."

My cheeks reddened. Then again, from all the blood in my head, it didn't make much of a difference. Focus! _Ninety-seven... Ninety-eight... Ninety-nine..._

Walter gently pressed his lips against mine. The sudden move caught me off-guard, and I lost both my concentration and balance. I slammed onto my back and moaned, rubbing the back of my head that had collided with the ground.

The stupid Englishman chuckled. I glared at him from the ground. His head was above mine, staring down at me.

"You get a kick out of me making a fool of myself, don't you?" I grumbled.

Walter smirked and lowered his head, brushing his lips against mine, but not quite touching. "It's entertaining, to be sure. But I prefer it when you're flustered."

I rolled my eyes. Walter made full contact with my lips, and I smiled, but he pulled away. Too soon, it seemed to me.

"Did you hear that?" Walter asked as he looked around the area.

I sighed and sat up. Only the sounds of the forest in upstate New York dared reveal themselves. Nothing else.

"You're imagining things," I told him, spinning around to meet him. "You made me lose my concentration. I'll have to stab you now."

"Can I make it up to you?" Walter smiled sheepishly.

I extended my arms behind me. My hands rested on some rocks to keep my balance. "I suppose you could try. What did you have in mind?"

"I'd rather show you." Walter, once more, pressed his lips to mine. Just as I was deepening it, my right hand slipped off of a rock.

I hissed in air and clenched my fist. My hand was red with blood from a cut. Walter grabbed my hand and examined the tiny wound.

"I'm sorry," he said absently.

I smirked. "What're you sorry for? It was an accident. It's already healing, see?"

True to my words, the skin began to knit back together. I'd had worse, by far. And since it was minor, it would heal faster. Walter brought the palm of my hand up to his face and kissed the disappearing wound.

"When it heals, does it hurt?" Walter asked.

I shook my head. "It just tingles. It won't even scar."

Walter rubbed his hand against mine, clearing it of blood. "How many cuts have you gotten?"

I laughed. "Too many to count!" I said with a grin. I quickly kissed Walter's cheek and then stood up, tousling his already messy hair. "We should get back. I need to figure out how I'm going to shower... I'm sure you don't want to kiss a sweaty beast!"

Walter stood up and wrapped one of his arms around my shoulders, bringing me closer to him. "You still need to tell me more about yourself."

"Where'd I leave off?"

"You said you'd tell me some smaller stories rather than your whole biography."

I smiled. "Yeah... Well, I'll think on which ones I should tell you."

Walter sighed. "Oh dear. More waiting."

"Suck it up, princess. All good things come to those who wait."

"Like me," Walter added, showing-off his devilish smirk.

"You? Good?" I snorted. "Don't make me laugh, Walter Hugh!"

"That's my goal for eternity, Sara Taylor."

_**1431**_

__I watched silently as the men escorted her. Her flowing red hair had been cut to her shoulders, but her ocean-blue eyes hadn't yet lost their fire. She gazed forward, determined, and didn't waver.

I smiled. She grew up well, I remarked. But she still has some growing to do...

I leapt off of the roof and slammed into one of the men. The narrow street disabled the men from using their halberds. I activated my hidden blades with a flick of my wrists and stabbed two guards as quickly as possible. A third drew his blade while the fourth tried to get up, but my foot was planted firmly on his chest. The guard ran at me and swung, but I grabbed the hilt of his sword. I punched his elbow, breaking his arm, and then reversed the sword, stabbing him in the heart. The last died by my hidden blades, gurgling his lifeblood in agony.

She stared at me, her body rigid. Her hands shook behind her and she clenched them in an effort to regain control of herself.

"Boo," I said.

She took a step back, her eyes widening. Four men appeared behind me, white hoods obscuring their faces and matching robes flowing behind them.

"Get her to safety," I ordered. They nodded and advanced on her. She took another step back. "Calm down. We're here to help."

"I'll face this myself, thank-you!" she snapped.

I grinned. "Oh, please. Death isn't something that you should face quite yet. Besides, we've got you covered."

She looked at us incredulously. I was dressed just as she was: a white, tattered gown, and I had even dyed my hair in blood to get it the colour she had. I'd also found a way to obscure my golden eyes and make them look like her blue.

"Who are you?" she asked quietly as I handed my hidden blades to one of the men beside me.

"Ask me when I come back," I told her. "Tie her bonds to me and then get changed. We don't want them to think she's escaped."

Her eyes widened. "No! You cannot face them! They'll kill you!"

"No," I said. "They'll kill 'The Maid of Orléans'." I smiled. "Hurry up, boys. Don't want to be late for the trial!"

A final robed man came and held her steady as they tied her bonds around my wrists. I nodded to her and grinned as the "guards" led me away. We needed her, so she couldn't die quite yet.

And who better to take her place than someone who couldn't die?

_**1918**_

__We sprinted through the woods. My hand was firmly clasped around her wrist as we ran. Besides the sound of our breathing, I could hear she was sobbing. I bit my lip as we reached the edge of the forest and stopped, allowing us both to catch our breaths. She needed it more than I did, though.

The young Grand Duchess gasped and leaned against a tree. Tears streaked down her face as she tried to make sense of her situation. She didn't fully believe what had happened. She probably wouldn't for a while.

I groaned and felt for wounds. Bullets had riddled my chest, but they weren't too deep. I could pull them out, albiet painfully. She only had a nick at her side. It bled, but I could stop it.

She fell to her knees, her entire body shaking with sorrow. I focused on getting the bullets out. Five of them. I found a stick and bit down on it as I dug my fingers into my flesh, feeling around for the tiny lead balls. As the last dropped to the ground, I spat the stick out and looked at her. Her sobs had slowed, but not stopped.

"We have to keep moving," I told her. "I know it's hard, but you must keep moving!"

She glared up at me. "You know?! You think you know what I'm going through?! Who are you?! Why did you take me away from my family?! Why didn't you help them?!"

"I couldn't save them all," I admitted. "I tried, but I couldn't. Your family still lives in you, though."

"I don't care!" she yelled. "Olga... Alexei... Maria... Tatiana... Mother and father too! How could you?!"

I crouched and glared into her eyes. She recoiled at the sight of mine. "I. Tried," I said firmly. "I know what it's like to lose family. But they wouldn't want you to die! They'd want you to live!" I stood up and held out a hand. "So you can either stand up and run, deny your enemy their final victory, or you could surrender to them, die, and lose the Romanov family line forever!"

Anastasia clenched her fists and stared at the ground. I could hear movement not far off, but still...

"You don't have the time to sit around and think, unless you want them to get you," I told her.

She grasped my hand. I pulled her to her feet and started running, Anastasia trailing behind me. We'd escape. I'd make sure of it.

And I'd be damned if anyone tried to kill her.


	2. The Confrontation

Chapter One:

The Confrontation

_**1225**_

_"Oh God…" I finally muttered._

_ Darim hugged me from behind and wiped away a tear that had escaped me. I hadn't even noticed it. "Don't worry, Suna. It will be all right."_

_ I wasn't sure if I could believe him. Regardless, I pulled away from Darim and sat on my bed, then tugged my ruined hood over my face._

_ Darim knelt beside me and kissed my forehead affectionately. "Sister… do not worry. Please."_

_ I would need to speak to Altair. I would need to speak to him and ask what would happen. I needed to know._

_ But then, holding my brother's hand, I just wanted to die._

I woke up from the dream—no, memory—in hurried gasps, my heart pounding both in my chest and head like a drum of war. I was certain someone would wake up from its resounding beats.

I brought my hands to my face and held them there. I was shaking terribly, the thought of speaking to Altair about... _this_... was driving me insane. I could barely wrap my mind around it as it was.

_Immortality_. One does not go through life without wondering what it would be like. But I did not expect that it would be me, of all people, to gain it.

I shuddered and got out of my cot. I paced around my tent for all of ten minutes before I uncorked a vial of ink, dipped a quill in it, and began to write to my youngest brother.

_Sef,_

_ Something I cannot explain with words has happened to me. I feel shame knowing it, but I cannot allow it to cloud my judgement. When we all get back to Masyaf, would you mind if I spoke with you? I need to talk about it, but I cannot quite find the words yet. Hopefully, the journey back to Masyaf will be considerably shorter than the journey here, to Mongolia._

_ Your family is all safe, Sef. Genghis Khan died by your brother's hand, and Khan's Piece of Eden is lost... I hope. The camp has begun to pack up. There are some who had volunteered for our makeshift army, and they were not Assassins. However, a few have shown an interest in such a path. Qulan will take care of it._

_ As usual, give our love to your daughters and wife. I look forward to seeing you. Keep safe, my brother._

_ Your sister,_

_ Suna_

I leaned back and took a moment to examine my writing. I hadn't written in so long that my hand would cramp from the simplest message, but this would do. I folded the letter and left it on my desk. I would give it to a courier later.

I took a deep breath and ran my hand through my dark brown hair. Vague red highlights made it look lighter, but whenever someone looked at me, the attention was not to my hair. My lively liquid-gold eyes were the first things anyone ever noticed. Not my trademark white robes, and not the armoured bracer on my left forearm; my eyes.

I rubbed them and then looked at my cot. Wrapped up in the sheet were my robes. I'd been repairing them, and finished last night. I hadn't left my tent in the two days I'd started the project, shame and fear keeping me inside. The hood was fixed now; it had been torn and hung lank on my face when Genghis Khan narrowly missed my face with the Sword of Eden, and instead tore my hood.

My stomach seemed to have healed from the wound I got from the Sword, but I had a new scar. I hadn't gotten a scar in years. Ever since...

I shook my head and donned my robes. They had been cleaned as well, so their white shone with clarity, just like Altair's. Cleaning my robes became a habit within my first year as an Assassin. Maria had made certain of that.

I flipped my hood over my head, secured all of my weapons in their respective places, and left the tent. The field was a bustle of activity as men cleared their campsites, and Assassins and volunteers alike parted ways with grins on their faces. The victory against Genghis Khan was one that would be remembered for centuries to come, I was certain.

I took my time walking to Altair's tent. I savoured the smell of the grass on the wind, though the scent of blood was still being carried as well. I wondered if I couldn't just close my eyes and open them, and find everything to be a dream. A terrible dream.

Too soon, I found myself in Altair's tent. He and Maria pecked each other on the lips as they laid in bed together. I suddenly realized that I was staring at them. Altair looked up and saw me, but didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed entertained by my reddening face.

"Come to visit us in bed, Suna?" he asked, smirking and making Maria laugh.

"I-I just..." I cleared my throat and looked away from the two, mentally beating myself for not asking permission to enter. My feet just led me there. "I need to speak with you, Altair."

"Now?" he grumbled, wrapping his arms around Maria.

I frowned. "You can stay right there while I am speaking."

"Ah, a compromise. I like it." Altair was an old man now, but his years and training as an Assassin had given him habits a man his age would not be able to do, like exercising every day, so he looked almost just like he did when he was twenty-six. Of course, he had greying hairs now. "What is it you wanted to talk about, Suna?"

"The Apple."

I had Altair's full attention now. He sat up in bed and looked me up and down, his hand running through the stubble of his beard. Maria sat up as well, and looked from her husband to me.

"I hate talk of that thing," she admitted. "It is a terrible artefact."

"Which is why I wonder why you bring it up, Suna," Altair muttured.

I took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk about what the Apple has done to me."

"Is it about the Sword? I know it wounded you and you had trouble healing, but—."

"No," I interrupted him. "This is something I've recently... come across."

Altair folded his hands together in front of him. "What is it, Suna?"

I opened my mouth to speak, words ready to fall from my mouth, when a man poked his head into the tent. He looked from me to the Grandmaster, and then smiled.

"How are you all?" he asked in broken Arabic.

Altair raised an eyebrow. "Very well. Who sent you?"

"My master." The man sprang into the tent and shoved me to the side, raising a knife above his head. "Die, Assassin!"

I hit Altair's desk and immediately rebounded, grabbing the man by the scruff of his shirt. He swung the knife around wildly and cut my cheek as I threw him into the desk. He spun around, but froze when I drove my hidden blade through his gut.

"Idiot! Do you think that I'd be so stupid as to forget how to kill careless pawns like you?!" I growled, letting the man's body fall to the ground.

Altair already had thrown the upper-half of his robes on, and Maria was in the process of getting ready herself. "I will speak to Qulan about this," he informed us as he secured his newly-crafted twin hidden blades to his wrists and grabbed his sword. "Hold that thought for later, Suna. And be on your guard."

"I always am," I replied dryly.

Maria rolled her eyes. "Not one moment of peace. I wonder sometimes if it is wise to continue communications with the Mongol Assassins."

"We must," I told her. "The Assassins cannot abandon their own."

"But the Assassins can allow spies and traitors into their ranks."

I smirked at her. "Were you not a Templar many years ago, Maria?"

The older woman glared at me. "Suna, I'm not afraid to silence you. I'm your mother, after all."

"I'm trembling in my boots." The talk with Altair would have to wait. But I wondered for how long.

_**1529**_

__ _I heard the door open in the front. Standing, Sofia and I went to greet the Auditore siblings._

_ "Marcello, Flavia," Sofia started. "There's something we need to speak about. It is important, so I ask that you sit."_

The siblings Auditore watched me incredulously, and Flavia glared at her mother.

"We should be getting a dottore!" she snapped. "And you! You should be in bed, idiota!"

I grinned. "I told you, Flavia; I'm fine!"

"Toro merda!" she exclaimed.

Marcello crossed his arms across his chest, but sat in front of the fireplace, his eyes deep in thought like his father's had been. Flavia caught the stern look her mother gave her and followed her younger brother, muttering curses under her breath.

"Instead of dragging this out..." I hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and came back into the living room, standing in front of the Auditores. "Here; this will explain better."

I flipped my hood off, not bothering to see their expressions, and pressed the knife against my palm. Blood began to trickle from it and down my arm. I placed the knife on the table in-between the two young Auditores and showed them my hand. The flesh slowly began to knit together in front of them.

"Do not ask me to cut myself again," I told them. "It still hurts when I do it."

Marcello blinked, his eyes snapping back-and-forth from my hand to my face. "Che cazzo...?" he grumbled.

"Language!" Sofia snapped, smacking the back of his head.

I grinned. "Okay, now that the hard part's done..." I cleared my throat. "I'll make this quick: my real name is Suna. I was born in Syria many years ago, and I am an Assassin."

The two Auditores looked at their mother, as if for confirmation. She nodded. "Your father was one as well. He was the Mentor of the Italian Assassins. I met him when I was running a bookshop in Istanbul. He wasn't exactly there for the books."

I smirked. "Ezio was my friend for a very long time, even to his death."

Flavia squinted her eyes at me. "Aspetta... You were the one who brought us those gifts all those years ago! I still have that bear!"

"I assume it got much use?"

"But this is impossible!" Flavia stood up abruptly. "No one can—!"

"Do I _really_ have to cut myself again?" I groaned, and then unwrapped the scarf from my neck and pointed. "See? I'm still burnt here. It hasn't healed yet. It depends on the injury."

Marcello's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, 'Assassin'?"

I cleared my throat. "The order I belong to defends the free will of all people, but we have to work through bad means to do good things. Work in the dark to serve the light."

"And padre...?"

"His father and brothers were killed by Templars, the men we Assassins fight against, and so Ezio struck out to defeat them, at least in Italia." I shrugged. "Then he travelled to my home, Masyaf, to learn the secrets of my father. He settled down with Sofia, and had you two troublemakers."

Marcello crossed his arms indignantly. "I am not a troublemaker!" he huffed.

"You picked a fight with Antonio, remember?" I grumbled.

"And how am _I_ a troublemaker?!" Flavia snapped.

I rolled my eyes. "The fight was about _you_, poco Flavia."

Flavia's hands wrung together. "I find this talk of 'Assassins' hard to believe, Sofia. Especially about my father."

"You remember Shao Jun?" I asked.

She nodded. "The Chinese woman. She was difficult to understand at times, but I'm glad she knew Italian. I didn't know Chinese..."

"She is an Assassin too." Flavia's eyes snapped up to me. "She came to the Villa to learn from Ezio, but he was retired. He did, however, teach her that it would take time to free her people, but it would be worth it."

"So those men you... killed...?"

"Templars. Old friends of the Auditore family." I grinned. "Lucky for you, I'm an even _older_ friend."

"Sofia has been an ally of our family since the time of Domenico Auditore, when he was Dante Alighieri's apprentice. Domenico was your great-great-grandfather," Sofia explained.

"You come from a long line of Assassins," I added, "and that means you have many enemies as well. Your father almost single-handedly took down the Borgia, and he got into a fistfight with Pope Alexander VI, also known as Rodrigo Borgia."

Marcello beamed. "So that's where I learnt how to fight so well!"

"Don't flatter yourself! You cannot 'inherit' one's fighting ability! If you _did_ get Ezio's abilities, Antonio and his friends would have been floored in a matter of moments!"

The young Auditore frowned, but said nothing. I sat in front of the fire and began to explain about myself and Ezio, who they had a particular interest in (obviously). The talk went on for hours, but I had to stop when Sofia asked me to help her outside, though I promised to continue for the Auditore children later.

They deserved that much.

_**2012**_

__"I don't like this place," I grumbled, placing my hands on my hips.

William frowned at me. "You don't have to like it, but we're here now. We're so close..."

He trailed off and I stuck my tongue out at him. I still didn't like him, no matter what he would do. He was a grade-A asshole. Always had been.

"If you don't like it here, perhaps we should go somewhere else?" Walter asked.

I shrugged. "Where?"

"Let's properly see New York!" he suggested.

"I suppose you haven't exactly seen it..." I scratched the back of my head. "William! We're going out!"

He glanced up at us and frowned. "And how are you going to do that? You're not using the van."

I rolled my eyes. "I have _friends_, you know. I can call in a favour."

William shook his head. "Do what you want. You always do."

"Says the asshole with no friends," I growled.

William snapped his head up, but by then, Walter was already leading me out of the Grand Temple. There was a bit of a steep hill to climb, but we made it out and into the light of the day. Shaun and Rebecca were unpacking the rest of the van, and Desmond was out for a run. Considering he'd been a petrified nut for the last few weeks, he'd earned the run.

I took out my phone and called up a friend—Embry Redgrave. It'd been a few weeks since I'd seen _him_. We only had to wait about twenty minutes before Embry came with a helicopter, which we boarded and took an aerial tour of New York city. Walter loved being up in the air, but I could tell it was unnerving for him.

"We'll go to ground level and tour it that way too, okay?" I told Walter through the headset.

He nodded, sticking his face up against the glass of the helicopter. When we got off, Embry had dropped us near Central Park.

"It's so... big," he murmured. "Much bigger than when we were in the car!"

The last time Walter had seen New York, Shaun had been driving us to the apartment in Harlem that we were hiding out in with the comatose Desmond. We walked around for hours. I was entertained because of Walter, whose eyes were about the size of a plate, and he was entertained due to the wonders of the future. We eventually wandered into the red light district and had to leave pretty quickly, so I hoped that he wasn't scarred for life.

But I turned my back for one second, and Walter disappeared.

"Oh lordy-lord," I mumbled. "Walter! Where are you?!"

I didn't hear anyone call back. I ran around as fast as I could, bumping into some people but managing to manoeuvre around most, but I couldn't find Walter.

"Goddammit where the hell'd he get off to?!" I grumbled. I looked around for a little longer before I spied some girls in mini-skirts. "Oh. He got scared. Well, that widens the radius that I need to look for him..."

I probably spent two hours walking around looking for Walter before I veered off into a back alley. He wasn't there either, and as I was about to walk out, five men entered the alleyway. It didn't take a genius to know that they weren't normal thugs.

"Templars..." I growled.

One of them pulled a retractable knife. "Assassin," he regarded.

I smirked at his weapon. "You think a little blade like that is getting anywhere near me?"

"You're alone, defenceless, and sarcastic." The Templar grinned. "I like our odds."

"Well, I don't like yours. It looks pretty terrible."

Three lunged forward. I flipped one overtop of me, ducked and swept my leg underneath the second, and then buried my hidden blades into the third's gut. I kicked him away from me and then tossed a throwing knife at the fourth, who was fleeing. The fifth (the one with the knife) ran at me, brandishing his weapon, and locked it with my hidden blades. I brought my knee up and hit him in the soft spot, and then kicked his legs out from under him. I leapt overtop of the first Templar to attack me (who had lunged at my legs) and then drove my hidden blade into his back, where his heart was. The second followed quickly enough when I buried my other hidden blade into his skull.

I kicked the knife out of the fifth Templar's hand, retracted my hidden blades and grabbed the collar of his shirt. "What have you done with Walter?!" He desperately tried to get away, but I slammed my fist into his head. "Where is he?!"

"I don't know anything—!"

I punched him again. "My companion! Where is he?!" I repeated.

The man didn't speak, so I continued to punch him. He was likely on the brink of death before I heard a sound from the entrance of the alleyway. When I looked up, Walter stood there with three figures, hooded and in white.

"Walter!" I exclaimed. "Where've you been?! I've been looking all over for you and had to stop to get some Templars! This place is crawling with them worse than their home base!"

He grinned at me sheepishly. "Sorry, love," he murmured. "I'll try not to get lost again."

I dropped the Templar. "You wouldn't get lost if you didn't run away every time you see a woman with a mini-skirt!"

"Sorry. I just don't get how women find such things attractive. It's not becoming of them!"

I hugged Walter. At least the Templars hadn't kidnapped him, but I wasn't apologizing to the one I'd beat back in the alley.

I talked with the Assassins from New York and thanked them for helping Walter. To properly thank them, I invited them for drinks (mostly because I was thirsty, but hey), and so we went to the nearest iced tea shop.

The three Assassins that sat across from Walter and I were only teenagers, but from the looks of them, they were experienced. One boy, two girls, though the one looked like she'd gone through Hell and back. She and the boy seemed... intimate... (It doesn't take a genius to figure _that_ one out.)

We all took a sip of our drinks, gauging each other. The first girl seemed to outrank the others, and I could see her eyes taking me in, examining me. Her eyes were golden like mine, but they could be mistaken for amber. I thought nothing of it; she was likely wearing contacts, just like everyone assumed with my own liquid-gold eyes. Her hood was down, revealing pale skin and brown hair. She reminded me of someone, but with all the people I knew, I couldn't place it.

"This is delicious!" I smirked at Walter's outburst.

"It's water with a ton of flavoured sugar," I told him. "Better than frozen tea any day."

"I prefer earl grey myself."

"I know. That's all you ever drank."

Walter grinned at me and came a bit closer. I saw the Assassins turn their heads respectfully, but it still made me embarrassed. Nonetheless, Walter removed my hood and kissed me, and then my eyes (which I had to close, that bastard...).

The brown-haired Assassin turned back before her comrades. I was confused at first when she was looking at me strangely, but then her female friend saw me and muttered something that I managed to catch only by luck.

"Suna..."

I was immediately on guard. No one but Shaun, William, Rebecca, Walter and Desmond knew me by that name.

I narrowed my eyes at the young Assassin. "_What_ did you just say?"

Walter's arm wrapped around my shoulders, and I saw on the brown-haired Assassin's face that she knew just how much shit her friend had gotten all three of them into.

And by God, I was going to find out how they knew my name, whether they liked it or not.


	3. Joan of Arc

Chapter Two:

Joan of Arc

_**1431**_

__"Ow!" I snapped.

Jean-Luc frowned at me. "Stop your squirming so I can apply the medicine!"

"I won't even need it in a few hours! Why do you insist?!"

His dark eyes bored into mine, and he ran a hand through his red hair, underneath his beaked hood. "Because it makes _me_ feel better!"

I glared daggers at him. "Then put it on yourself! I don't want it!" I cringed, grasping my burnt arm as Jean-Luc pressed the cloth he'd put medicine on against it. "Do your ears work, Jean?!"

"My _name_ is Jean-Luc!"

"I'll call you by your full name when you stop this unnecessary thing!"

"Would you two be silent?!" Jeanne growled. "You two idiots are giving me a headache!"

"Is that any way to treat the people who just saved your sorry derrière?" Jean-Luc asked. "No disrespect intended, of course, madam, but our stress has not yet been vented properly."

"_I_ am angry too!" Jeanne nearly yelled. "Where in God's name have you taken me?! Who _are_ you people?!"

I grinned at her. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll be right with you."

Jeanne crossed her arms and sat in the chair provided for her while Jean-Luc and I argued a while longer. Eventually, the French Assassin allowed me to heal on my own, but he did so reluctantly. I pulled my sleeve downwards to cover my burnt arm and studied Jeanne, who examined me in turn.

"Well, Maid of Orléans, everyone believes that you burned at the stake now. What will you do with your life, now that you can live it?" I asked.

She frowned. "I must return to my people. We need to finish this war, and—."

I shook my head. "No. The war is meaningless, and your people believe in your death. You cannot return, or you may really die." Jeanne looked at me incredulously. "It's true. And besides, your trial was orchestrated so that our enemies could take the Sword."

"Sword? You mean my blade?"

"Your 'Piece of Eden'," Jean-Luc elaborated. "The blade you acquired is a powerful artefact. Have you heard the legends of King Arthur and Perseus?" Jeanne nodded. "Excalibur was a Sword of Eden, and as was the blade Perseus used to slay the Gorgon Medusa."

Jeanne snorted. "Oui, and soon you will tell me that you escaped the pyre because you cannot die!"

I grinned and looked at Jean-Luc. "I really like her perception! She'd make a great Assassin!"

"No," Jean-Luc declared firmly. "I do not think so."

"Spoil-sport." I met my eyes with Jeanne. Luckily, the dye I'd put in them to turn them blue was starting to fade. I'd have to wash the blood out of my hair later. "Where is your blade?"

"The English took it when I was captured."

"Then the Templars already have it..." Jean-Luc murmured. "Damn. I would have hoped that you could have hidden it..."

"Excusez-moi, but I was captured by my enemy. My thoughts were not to hide my weapon, monsieur."

I grinned. "Oh, you two are going to get along _just fine_. I can tell."

It took all of ten minutes to explain to Jeanne that we were leaving for the Mediterranean. With nowhere for the girl to go, I invited her along (much to Jean-Luc's despair). She did want to come, so we hitched a ride with a caravan out of England.

The trip proved eventful.

It was late one night when we were nearing the sea between France and England that the caravan stopped. Our wagon ceased its movement abruptly and awakened us all. I immediately got a bad feeling.

"Jean, stay with Jeanne," I ordered.

Jean-Luc nodded. "As you wish. Just stop calling me that! It's Jean-Luc!"

"Si, si. Whatever." I hopped out of the wagon and glanced around, my eyes lingering on the dark shadows that the trees cast. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

A few men at the front of the caravan were scratching their heads at the fallen tree on the road. I walked over and inspected the trunk, running my hand against the smooth rings.

"This was cut recently..." I murmured. "A trap. Why am I not surprised?" I stood up straight. "Get your weapons!" I hollered at the men. "We're about to be under attack!"

They looked at me incredulously. Their looks, however, were wiped from their faces when an arrow struck one of their fellows.

I drew my shortblade and rolled to the side, avoiding the volley of arrows that cascaded against the convoy. Several more men were struck dead before they took up their arms. I charged at our assailants, roaring a battle-cry, and punched the first one I approached in the face. I twirled around and sliced his throat open, and then blocked an attack from one of his comerades. I kicked out, connecting my foot with his knee, and when his legs buckled I brought my knee up and slammed it into his jaw.

One of the raiders came up behind me and grabbed me, holding me firmly in place as I struggled. Another raider screamed and lunged forward with his sword. Using all of my core strength, I kicked off of the nearby tree stump and hooked my legs around a tree branch. With my momentum, I brought my captor up with me, spun him around the branch and then released it, and I landed on top of him.

He reached for my throat, and as his comrade came back around with his sword I leaped off of him, and he was stabbed through the gut by his fellow. Stunned for a moment, I took that to my advantage and flung a throwing knife into his throat.

"Let me go, bâtard!" Jeanne screamed.

I whipped my head around, but in the darkness I couldn't see her. Cursing, I hurried back to our wagon. No sign of Jeanne or Jean-Luc. I swore vehemently and began the search for tracks. The raiders were occupied, and wouldn't see me. I just hoped that the caravan and my companions would be all right.

_**2012**_

__The lead Assassin threw her hood over her face, concealing it in shadow, and rose from the table. Not one to let my opponent (or whoever they were) get the advantage, I mirrored her, my eyes glaring daggers into her.

"What did your friend just say?!" I repeated, unconsciously clenching my hands.

The one who said my name began to stand, her eyes fixed on my face. "I said—."

The lead Assassin elbowed her in the stomach. "Not now!" she exclaimed.

I couldn't take it any longer. I flicked my wrist, unleashing my left hidden blade, and pressed it against her throat. No one in the shop noticed much; they likely thought that we were just playing around. I'm puzzled at the Assassin's confidence, but then I feel the tiny pinprick of the tip of a hidden blade pressed against my stomach.

"What. Did. Your. Friend. Say?" My voice was calm, but I was not. Anyone who would have known me for a period of time in my life would know that this was a bad sign.

The Assassin took a breath, taking her time to properly assess the situation. "Move the blade and I'll move mine."

Some sense came back to me and I removed my hidden blade from her throat, sheathing it. The Assassin brought her right hand up to her throat and rubbed the spot that my blade had been pressed against, and then retracted her own blade.

Her boyfriend, the male Assassin, began to rise from his seat. "Joel," she cautioned, "I swear to God that if you try to act all brave and courageous like a normal boyfriend would, I swear I will beat the living daylights out of you. Got it?"

I hid my smirk as the Assassin named Joel sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at me. "Fine," he growled curtly.

My eyes returned to the Assassin. She swallowed, but not in fear. Nervousness was more likely. Even without seeing her eyes, I could tell her mind was racing.

"Explain yourself!" I demanded, my patience spiralling into a vortex. Walter began to stand, his eyes full of concern. "Walter, I swear that if you try to intervene, I will personally beat the lights out of you."

He sat back down, but the look didn't leave his face. I couldn't wait anymore; I needed an answer! I grabbed the Assassin by her collar and held her.

"Start talking! Or so help me, I'll cut everyone's tongue out!" I growled.

"Give me a second to compile an explanation!" the Assassin replied. "Ho solo bisogno di un po 'di tempo per pensare!"

"You don't need to _'think'_ in order to give me a goddamn explanation!" I snapped, shaking her a bit.

"Um... is everything okay here?" A server was watching me carefully. She was getting in the way of my explanation.

"We're fine. Now get lost!" I snapped harshly.

The server took a step back, and that was when Joel swooped in. "Perhaps another round of iced teas?" he asked, leading the woman away.

I was about ready to hit someone by that point when the Assassin I was holding said, "I went into an Animus!" She got my attention pretty quickly. Walter tensed at the mention of the machine. I knew that it brought back memories that weren't the best. "I relieved the memories of my ancestor, Sehkat. She was part of the Egyptian Assassins in 1498."

I went rigid. Cold found its way down my spine as the words sank in. I didn't feel that I could believe the Assassin, but... I just didn't know.

"Sara?" Walter's voice found its way to my ears, but I couldn't open my mouth to reply.

"Wait, don't go near them!" The lead Assassin's friend stopped Walter.

"Why not?!" Walter exclaimed.

I looked at the Assassin I was holding. Without seeing her eyes, I could see the resemblance. The shape of her chin, mouth... I flipped the hood off of the Assassin in a frenzy and examined her more closely this time. The shape of her eyes, too. She was pale though, which was different from Sehkat.

"How is...?" I couldn't wrap my head around it. I had thought I'd lost them...

"My bloodline runs all the way back to Darim Ibn-La'Ahad."

I couldn't hold onto her any longer; I released her. She stepped back and straightened out the area that I had grabbed hold of. Darim's face breezed across my vision... The face of my brother...

S-Sehkat was your ancestor?" I asked quietly.

She nodded her head, eyes dead set on mine. "Yes." Flipping her hood over her head, she added, "I wasn't alone. Casey was doing research on..." She hesitated, and her friend, Casey, hung her head. "Sofia d'Alviano." I froze, my breathing nearing a halt. "When that came up blank..." The Assassin shrugged.

"Akar Khaa," I stated, my voice shivering. "His comment..."

I could remember that night all too well. The day I'd met Sehkat (introduced to me through Iskender, the Mentor of the Egyptian Assassins and Sef's descendant), we were sent on a mission. We killed a Templar's decoy and had to go after him the next night., but Sehkat found out about my healing ability because I'd saved her. When we went after Akar Khaa the next night, I'd found myself pretending to be unconscious in his quarters and he stabbed me through the throat. That pain... It was almost unbearable, but Sehkat had been found out and was about to be executed. I'd somehow got myself onto my feet and defended her. Akar Khaa, seeing the blood gushing from my throat by my eyes alive and full of fire, pointed at me in fear.

_"T-The Assassin legends are true?! The Shadow-Step lives?!"_

Shadow-Step. My old nickname. The one I had as Suna Ibn-La'Ahad.

"We need to discuss this... privately," I said, my head returning to the person before me.

She nodded. "Perhaps that would be best."

"Meet us in Central Park tonight," I told her firmly. "Walter," I murmured, "we need to go."

I couldn't get out of that store fast enough. I had no idea how to feel. I thought I'd lost them. I thought they'd died. And now... I had no idea what to think.

I didn't know if I could face the person who was my niece.


	4. Times A Million

Chapter Three:

Times A Million

_**2012**_

__I found it surprisingly easy to explain to Walter exactly who that Assassin was. He knew about my brothers Darim and Sef, but he was only really aware of Sef's bloodline—one which went all the way to Desmond. I hadn't even known that Darim had any children (I don't think he really knew either), so it was a bit of a shock in the first place to learn about Sehkat.

We roamed New York for several hours until we lost track of the time. On the bright side, Walter could take my mind off of things... including the meeting time with the young Assassins.

We hurried to Central Park. I glanced around and saw the bench that Jeremy and I had enjoyed hot dogs on together, and where he'd stepped in to rescue me (even though I didn't need it). I shook my head and continued forward, but my mind wandered to the many questions I had; too many to speak of.

Walter and I found the three Assassins underneath a bridge, waiting impatiently for us. I sheepishly smiled.

"Sorry we're late. Walter was sightseeing again," I explained.

The lead Assassin shrugged. "No worries."

I breathed inwardly. "You have no idea—." A white-hot, searing pain erupted in my left shoulder. I clutched it and screamed in pain, but managed to only fall on one knee. A knife was lodged in my shoulder, tipped with a burning poison of sorts. I yanked it out, but my mind was in a flurry. Were those Assassins really Assassins? Or Templars in disguise?

My question was answered when the lead Assassin launched a throwing knife at a charging Templar agent.

"Sara—!" Walter, on the lead Assassin's orders, is promptly tackled to the ground by Joel, and they both evaded poison-tipped knives.

"Casey! Protect Joel and Walter!" she ordered loudly.

My heart skipped a beat when Walter didn't get up immediately. "W-Walter?!"

The lead Assassin stabbed an agent and put a hand on my good shoulder. "He's safe. I have Joel and Casey protecting him," she assured me.

I tore my gaze away from Walter and focused on the fight. My vision, blurry at first, cleared as she got yet another agent in the stomach.

"Emma!" Casey hollered desperately. "Look out!"

I could see the lead Assassin's, Emma's, eyes widen. As fast as I possibly could, I pulled my shortblade from the sheathe on my back and tackled the Templar agent mid-attack against Emma. His head lashed against the ground as I raised my shortblade above my head, and then plunged it into his chest. I caught Emma's eye and she nodded in thanks.

Atop the bridge was a man in black garb. His eyes seemed more dead than the Templar I'd just stuck my blade into. He sneered at us, and as I reached for some throwing knives he stuck his nose up in the air indignantly.

"Fall back!" he ordered.

He stepped off the bridge and disappeared. I didn't know the man, but all I needed to know was that he was a Templar, and Emma seemed to know him. Her hands had clenched at the sight of him.

I yanked my shortblade out of the dead man's chest and wiped the blood off on his clothes, and then replaced it on my back. I was dimly aware of the throbbing of my shoulder, but I knew it would pass in time.

"Sara!" Walter embraced me and held me tightly, intensifying the pain in my shoulder. When he released me, I kissed his cheek.

"I'm fine, thanks to Emma. How're you?" I asked.

He beamed, his chocolate eyes lighting up with his smile. "Not a scratch! Casey and Joel are amazing fighters!"

I noted the scratch on Casey's cheek, and I was relieved that it wouldn't scar. I met Walter's lips quickly and then allowed him to wander away for a moment with Casey and Joel. I took that as my chance to speak with Emma, so I grabbed her wrist and led her away from the others.

"Why'd you do it?" I asked.

Emma rubbed her head, vaguely revealing a bit more of her face. "Do what?"

"Risk your lives for Walter and myself?"

She smiled knowingly. "I'm repaying an old debt."

I gently touched my shoulder as Emma looked to it. She definitely knew about the times I'd saved Sehkat's life, and so knew about my healing.

"Consider it repaid," I told her.

Emma gestured to my shoulder. "So, are you going to explain this?" she asked, and then I remembered that I had refused to tell Sehkat about _how_ and _why_ I could heal.

I rolled my eyes. "Merda. Fine. Meet me tomorrow at the iced tea shop. Bring your friends."

She nodded firmly. I had to wonder what kind of Assassin she was, and for one so young, I guessed she'd been born into the Brotherhood. That meant that she knew what duty was. Probably better than I thought she knew.

"My God!" I looked at Walter, who immediately came over and examined my shoulder. "Sara, what happened?!"

"We need to split up," Emma said, looking in-between Walter and I. "The police will be here in a few minutes."

I nodded, cursing the speed of the law enforcement in that day and age. "Okay." Emma, Joel and Casey quickly sped off in one direction while Walter and I went another way. I partially removed my robes to inspect my wound. "Great..." I groaned.

Walter stopped me for a moment and pressed his lips against a part of my shoulder that wasn't wounded or covered in blood, and then gently tipped his forehead onto mine.

"Be careful," he murmured. "I can't lose you again, Sara. I just can't."

Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I knotted my arms around his neck and held him there. "I can't either, Walter. I'll do my best."

"As will I, Sara Taylor."

_**1431**_

__I scaled the nearest tree and began to swing from one to the other. Once I'd found their tracks, I could easily see which way they were going with my Assassin companion and Jeanne. Whoever had kidnapped them likely had to have taken Jean-Luc by surprise, because he would never had let anyone near Jeanne unless it was over his dead body.

Jean-Luc and I had met when I passed through France on a routine inspection of their Assassin branch. Jean-Luc was a promising recruit who wanted an adventure, so I had offered him the chance. We went to England to free Jeanne from her Templar captors, and so I took her place while Jean-Luc was one of the four guard impostors. He enjoyed the job, and I had a feeling that he would get many contracts once he returned to his branch with success.

The thing was, I had to make sure he and Jeanne weren't dead first.

I stopped abruptly at the edge of the forest and spied a shack at the top of a hill in the clearing. I wondered if the kidnappers would be so stupid as to hide there, and I was about to examine the tracks when I heard Jeanne's voice, screaming curses at the top of her lungs. All doubts were swiftly erased.

I sprinted to the shack as silently as my speed would allow and pressed myself against the shambling building. I scuttled to the side until I was near an open window and peered inside. A man back-handed Jeanne, but that didn't stop her from screaming French curses at him.

"Shut 'er up!" a second man growled.

"Don't ye think I'm tryin' that?!" the first replied, taking a hostile step towards his companion.

The first man shoved the second out of the way and raised a dagger. Jean-Luc, though his hands were bound by rope, scurried in front of Jeanne.

"English pigs!" he spat vehemently. "Don't you dare—!"

The man with the dagger plunged the dagger downwards. Too bad my crossbow bolt hit the man in the hand. He clutched his hand in pain and screamed, effectively dropping the dagger. I perched on the windowsill and reloaded casually.

"Scusa," I said, "but I cannot let Jean and Jeanne die by a random attack. It would be tragic and embarrassing on my part, si?"

The second man whirled around and fired his own crossbow at me. I only had to move my head out of the way for the bolt to miss.

I grinned. "Now that wasn't very polite, was it messere?" I fired a bolt at the second man, and it entered through his knee. "Since you won't grace me with your famous English manners, I suppose I should show you my Italian charm! It's too bad I'm not Italian!" I stepped down from the windowsill and into the ruined shack, ignoring the pained screams from the men. "Now, I'm going to take my companions, and we'll leave. Treat your wounds well, or you may just lose the parts I've shot!"

The first man, clutching his hand to his chest, glared daggers at me. "Italian whore!"

"I'm Syrian, idiot. Didn't I say I wasn't Italian?" I aimed my crossbow in-between his legs. "Shall I give you a better reminder this time?"

He dropped to his knees and leaned forward, shielding his special area, but he didn't say anything. I holstered my crossbow onto my back and grabbed my shortblade, slicing it across both Jean-Luc and Jeanne's bonds.

"Let's get out of here," I said. "I hope the caravan is still intact..."

Jean-Luc and Jeanne followed me into the forest silently. Jeanne was taking her kidnapping well, but then I assumed it was because she'd already been captured by the English _once_. Twice made no difference. Jean-Luc was rubbing his sore wrists and shaking his numb hands out, obviously annoyed at his misadventure.

"How did you get caught, Jean?" I asked him.

"Jean-_Luc_!" he snapped. "We heard the fight begin, and as the swords clashed I looked out of the wagon to see it. Someone struck me on the head, and then I woke up in that cabin."

"Curiosity..." I smirked. "Just be wiser about it. I'd hate to see that head of yours mounted on the wall of someone who isn't even a _Templar_."

"I'm _touched_ by your concern," Jean-Luc growled, sarcasm dripping from every word.

My smile widened. "Don't let it go to your head, amico—the non-Templar would have no difficulty in stuffing it."

Jean-Luc showed me his middle finger while Jeanne laughed at us. Suffice to say, I enjoyed their company.

_**2012**_

__We arrived at the iced tea shop as quickly as possible, after having argued with William about the van (in the end, I won. Haha!). We parked the van a few blocks away and took our time getting there. I could see that Joel didn't seem very happy about our leisure time.

"Good afternoon," Emma greeted.

Walter beamed and shook Emma's hand. I was suddenly glad that I'd taught him how to handshake rather than kiss women's hands upon meeting. "Good afternoon, Emma."

"No need for formalities," I grumbled, entering the shop in stride.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed..." I heard Emma mumble.

I really, really, _really_ had to struggle against my reaction to punch her in the face. I only wanted to hit her more when I realized she was right. When the three took their seats, they removed their hoods and Emma asked for Joel to grab some iced teas, and he returned promptly.

"Glad you could make it," I grumbled (I had hoped that William would have gotten Shaun to send them on a mission or something). Walter squeezed my hand and gave me a reassuring smile. I returned the squeeze.

"Since my ancestor was denied an explanation back in 1498, why don't you tell me?"

I blinked. _She's to the point then? Definitely not from Darim._

Walter leaned closer to me. "Sara, you don't have to tell them."

Emma rolled her golden eyes. I had to admit, it was eerie to see them on anyone but myself. "Her name is Sam, Walter." One of her eyebrows rose mockingly. "Or is it perhaps... Suna?"

I glared at her, but hearing someone call me by my real name sent uncertain chills down my spine. I could practically hear my father's voice calling me by my name for something-or-other.

"Fine," I said, relaxing myself.

"Perhaps you should start from the beginning?" Emma suggested.

_Where else would I be able to start?_ I wondered sarcastically.

"I was born in 1185," I began. "I lived in Damascus for seven years before guards accused me of stealing. I had been on my own for years, so I learned to fend for myself. I couldn't outrun the guards and was forced to face them, but I was just a child. I couldn't fight off three grown men. And that was when Altair stepped in."

I smirked at the thought. Altair had been my first—and last—hero. "His silver sword was the first thing I saw, and then Altair himself, white hood and all. I was wounded, and he carried me all the way back to Masyaf, where I became an Assassin. I gained a family there, and a name. Brothers soon came as well. Maria and Altair treated me as if I were their own flesh and blood, and so I decided to become the best Assassin, so I could make them proud.

"But I made enemies as well. A boy named Mohammad was the most outspoken of them. Besides Maria, who was the Grandmaster's wife, I was the only female Assassin in the Levant. I became a Master Assassin only a few scant years after killing my first contract, Richard the Lionheart, and that was when things changed."

I shut my eyes. The cliff, the hunt, the fight... It all came back in a current of unwanted memories. A simple task turned into lifetimes of pain. Walter squeezed my hand again to comfort me. I returned it once more. "Mohammad stole 'The Art of War', a personal book of the Grandmaster. I tracked him down and confronted him and his friends, but in my haste to get the book, I overlooked Mohammad's hate for me. As I aided one of his friends from falling off of the cliff, he stabbed me through the gut. Altair arrived, and he got to watch Mohammad and I, whom I had grabbed, fall from the cliff."

I snorted when I remembered hitting the water. "Altair couldn't swim, and neither could me—something that you must have picked up on in your Animus session—or Mohammad, but he leapt into the sea regardless. Mohammad drowned in the sea, and Altair somehow got us to shore. That was when he pulled out the Apple..." I took the tiny shard of what remained of Altair's Apple in my hand, under my robe. Emma's eyes were drawn there, but immediately went back to me. "I woke up some time later. I woke up from death. My wounds were healed, and my eyes were changed. They used to be blue, you know. Now they are gold, like the Apple.

"I began to notice that my wounds healed quickly, and I couldn't die from a blade. I expected old age to take me though, so I did my best to pay it no mind. I could, however, be wounded by the Pieces of Eden, like the Sword that Genghis Khan wielded into battle. It was during that time that I realized I hadn't aged a day since my encounter with Mohammad, and it scared me more than any enemy could. My family died, but I remained. At the request of my father and Grandmaster, I wait and watch his bloodline. I protect them with everything I have. But I'm stuck as a teenager forever. And before you say it's a good thing, I cannot increase my skills, and they in turn cannot be lost. The fighting abilities I have are from what I learned up to the day I fought Mohammad, and so it will stay."

I cleared my throat, the nervousness setting in. "As for Walter..." I tried to hide my shyness about the subject. It wasn't going so well. "We met around the American Revolution..."

"I was her knight in shining armour!" I facepalmed, mostly to hide my red face. "And we fell in love."

"And I'm pretty sure that you've guessed that me and relationships don't mix." I rubbed my tired eyes with my forefinger and thumb. "Walter's descendant, Jeremy, was captured by the Templars. I didn't know about his lineage, and so when the Templars began training recruits using the memories of specific ancestors, Walter's personality and memories came through. So, he's here now, and I couldn't save Jeremy."

Walter wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. "It worked out for the best, Sara," he assured me. "We're here now, and we can enjoy the time we have."

I nodded and then sighed. "Anything else you want to know?" I asked Emma. "I'm not going to write a book here."

Emma shook her head and seemed to relax a bit. "No." She grinned at us. "That's it, huh? From what you said to Sehkat, Casey and I thought you were a Templar."

_What I _said_?! What'd I say?!_ "What in the hell would make you think I was a _Templar_?!"

Emma shrugged nonchantly. "You _were_ rather secretive."

I snorted and leaned back in my chair, Walter following. "Okay then. What's your story, Emma? Why do _you_ have gold eyes?"

"I'd rather not tell you." Emma avoided my eyes.

I glared at her. "Tough shit. Tell me."

"Well…" Emma cleared her throat nervously. "I inherited Eagle _Vision _from my mother, and after a few weeks of using Eagle Vision, it evolved into Eagle Sense. But the rest of it, well, I was driving my sister, Sarah, home from the gym and I got a call saying that Templars had attacked a faction building. Casey and I drove to the location after dropping my sister off and went to the faction building, only to realize that Templars had set it ablaze." Emma shook her head at the memory. I glanced at Casey and Joel and saw that they looked a bit sick. "And just as we were about to get out—Casey and me that is—a wooden beam was about to kill Casey. I, uh, kinda shoved her out of the way and the beam landed on my legs. After that, I blacked out until I woke up in the hospital and I realized _how_ I survived."

I nodded slowly and crossed my arms. "Someone had a Piece of Eden."

"My father had one stored away," she admitted. "My brother, Derek, used it on me, and a few days later I learned about my Eagle Sense, my ability to heal... Sort of like you, but I heal a tad bit faster—." _Oh? We'll see about that._ I flicked my wrist and Emma frowned. "Don't even attempt it."

I resolved to cut her when she wasn't looking. "Sorry," I mumbled. "You can't blame me for being curious."

Emma continued professionally. "Then, well, I went into an Animus, and the rest you know. I mean, I got Sehkat's Eagle Sense and we both got the ability to walk like a girl." She smirked at me mockingly. My face went red instantly from the memories. In order to find Akar Khaa, Sehkat and I had to dress as Egyptian courtesans. That meant that _I _had to learn how to walk like a courtesan. It wasn't a happy experience. "Oh come one! You can't tell me that you _didn't_ get Walter back in the day—no offence to you, Walter—by walking like a boy?!"

I removed my gaze from Emma and glared at the ground, a flurry of insults whistling through my head. Emma began to take frequent sips of her iced tea as I smirked, the perfect come-back forming in my head.

"Well," I said, pointing to Joel, "I suppose you and that guy couldn't have gotten together while _you_ walked like a boy, so there's no way Walter and I could have gotten together if _I_ walked like one." I grinned triumphantly. "And I was just thinking... since you are related to Darim... wouldn't that make me your great-great-great-great-times-a-million-aunt?"

Emma choked on her iced tea in surprise. Walter smirked at me devilishly as Joel pounded Emma's back to stop her from dying. Casey was choking as well, and I admit that I enjoyed the moment.

"W-What?!" Emma gasped (once she was done).

I didn't let my grin leave. "Since you're related to Darim, I'm technically related to you."

"Are you insane?!"

"Hey, I'm only being honest here."

"I don't think there's any _direct_ relation to me or my family. And I remember you saying you watch over Altair's bloodline." Emma crossed her arms indignantly. "Well, my family doesn't need a babysitter."

I rolled my eyes at her display. "I'm not a babysitter. Well, in Walter's case I am, but I'm much more concerned about Desmond Miles."

"I know he's back in the states." Emma surprised me with that. William must have let the Assassins know, but I figured he wouldn't for security issues. "I know that this war is almost over."

"How?" I pressed.

Emma looked downcast. "I can hear a voice..."

_Voice? Oh, that's not good. First it's voices, and then it's actually seeing things..._ I grabbed the tiny fragment of Altair's Apple again and fidgeted. _Perhaps I should give her the name of a therapist...?_

"Stop... playing with that thing!" I glanced at Emma. She was holding her head, glaring at the unseen fragment.

_Oh. I get it. _That_ kind of voice._ "I see." I dropped the fragment and grabbed Walter's hand again.

Emma released her head and took a breath. "Besides, I met Joel at a family gathering, _before_ I inherited Sehkat's walking style."

"Is that some type of codeword?" I quipped.

Emma didn't get it. "No."

Her boyfriend wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "It's okay," he murmured in reassurance.

Emma's eyes hardened. "I lost my dad a few months ago and my mom died a year after my sister was born," she explained.

I was silent for a moment before I replied, "I didn't know."

"Emma, Heather said you can see Sarah," Casey said. "She just called."

_When?! I didn't see a phone!_ I blinked. _Oh, right. Bluetooth._

"Sarah?" Walter asked in obvious confusion.

Emma shrugged. "My sister. She's in the hospital."

"What for?" I asked.'

She looked down, her eyes avoiding mine. "Animus," she finally muttered.

I nodded in understanding. I had first-hand experience of the crap the Animus could put one through. "I hope everything works out," I told her sincerely.

Emma nodded, and then (in an attempt to lighten the mood) Joel pulled out a deck of cards. He and Casey taught Walter how to play poker while Emma and I talked and got to know one another. They left a few hours later to go to the hospital.

As Walter and I watched them go, I couldn't help but feel a little anxious. A Piece of Eden saved Emma's life. I didn't want her to live the life I had. If we failed, she wouldn't have to anyway; she'd likely be dead. But if we succeeded, what could I do for her? I couldn't even find the answers myself.

_Regardless, I suppose it'd be nice to have some company if we're doomed to live forever._


	5. Infiltrating the Enemy

Chapter Four:

Infiltrating the Enemy

_**1225**_

__I stared dimly at the note I'd received from Altair. I couldn't believe what he had written; I just couldn't! I didn't want to accept it, but... I had no choice. Did I? Didn't I?

_Suna,_

_ Qulan has recently been having trouble with Templars along the cliffs, but they are elusive. Normally, we would dispatch several Assassins to their positions and eliminate their threat, but it has become difficult. They are smart, and continue to move. Assassins that we send to track them never return._

_ And so, I must ask the impossible of you; find them, and join them. Send us messages via pigeons or any other way you can think of, and lead us to this threat. I will not let you take them on alone, as I suspect there are many more than we believe._

_ Infiltrate their ranks so we can defeat them, but let no one know of your true allegiances. It could prove disastrous if you fail. I have faith in you though, and I know you will not let me down._

_ Altair_

And after leaving the note, Altair left to pursue other raiders, though they weren't connected with the Templars. He'd taken Darim and Maria with him, and Qulan had decided to accompany them. I was to take on an impossible mission alone.

To make matters worse, I had to be a _Templar_.

My blood boiled as I crumpled the note with my fist. Me?! A Templar?! I couldn't fathom it. My thoughts immediately went to A'hd, my estranged and disgraced Templar uncle. I was angry and scared at the thought of having to infiltrate the Templars. I didn't want to have to pretend that my beliefs were the very things I fought against.

I sighed and folded the ruined note into a pouch on my belt. I'd have to find and convince the Templars to take me in. I was too well-known as "Suna Ibn-La'Ahad", especially as "Suna of the Shadow-Step". I'd have to leave my robes, but I wasn't keen on leaving my weapons behind. Perhaps only a few. Crossbow, and... All right, just the crossbow.

A new name, as well, and a good explanation for my weapons and training. My hidden blade would have to be disguised, most definitely. And then there was the issue of getting the Templars to accept me, a _woman_, into their ranks. Maria had managed to join in her youth, but Robert de Sable had taken a fancy to her, though she hadn't returned it.

_I'll pretend to be a boy,_ I decided. _No Templars really know very much about my eyes, so I could simply say that my mother was English... I hope they buy it._

With a sigh, I began to undress from my robes, leaving only the undershirt and trousers on. I dug through a pile of clothing that Darim had brought me days ago and found a loose-fitting shirt that concealed my breasts. I quickly brought my hidden blade across my hair and cut it to just below my ears, and then a tiny bit more so I'd look the part of a mercenary or a fighter of some sort.. I had to leave my belt (and I reluctantly removed my crossbow), but I still had the rest of my weapons. I did, however, remove the armour plate on my hidden blade so it looked like I had a simple leather bracer on each hand (I would have to ask Altair to give me the blueprints to construct a second hidden blade later).

The people around the camp still knew I was an Assassin despite my lack of robes when I went outside my tent, and so it was no trouble to get a horse. I took a bit of money with me just-in-case, and set out. The Templar raiders seemed to enjoy the cliffs, so I set my sights there and didn't look back at the Assassin camp.

I stopped to buy a black cloak from a passing merchant to shield myself from the wind (I didn't own a cloak in the first place, since my robes had done the job) and then continued on my journey. Two days after I began, I found fresh tracks that hinted to a large group and followed them. Another day later, I was only a few hours behind the Templar raiders. That was when I decided to rest myself and my horse so we could pick up the pace the next day.

In the morning, I had my horse at a canter while we pursued. By nightfall, we had caught up. I hid my horse in the bushes and watched the Templars. They wanted themselves to seem to be nothing more than raiders and dressed accordingly, but it was easy to spot their leaders. Red crosses had been sown onto the shoulders of their cloaks or armour, and their noses were simply too high in the air.

"Oi!" I jumped at the voice and put a hand on my sword, whirling around. A stocky man stood behind me, obviously English, but he hadn't brought any of his weapons out. "Watching the other recruits ain't gonna reveal any o' their secrets. Trust me; I've tried." I was still tensed, and the man noticed it, so he held out a hand in greeting. "Wayde Montgomery. And you are...?"

_I didn't think of a name!_ I took the man's hand, thinking frantically. "Rowan Saxton," I replied. Maria had once spoke of a boy she'd known in England with that name. I hoped that he wasn't well-known.

Wayde pointed to my horse. "That yours?" he asked. I nodded, and he patted its mane. "Fine beast, this. Just arrived then?"

"Am I late?"

"Nah. You've arrived just on time." Wayde clapped me on the shoulder and began to lead me into the Templar camp. My stomach lurched. "The boys upstairs like it when people come on time. Early? They know they're boot-lickers. Late? Not worth their time. You've got your foot in the door already!" The man grinned and ran a hand through his lank dark hair, tinged with grey. "So, you gonna use all those weapons?"

I wasn't sure what for, but I knew I had to play along. "I hope to."

"Man of few words, eh? Good. People here hate it when fresh meat give their say." Wayde gave me a sympathetic look. "Well, you'll need all those weapons. The other hopefuls want to make an impression with the top, and they've got a good chance," he explained as his eyes gave me a once-over. "You're smaller than them. Less of a build, too. So unless those weapons are just for show, you've probably made sure you're good at 'em."

I nodded. "Erm... my horse...?"

Wayde waved a hand. "I'll send a boy to collect it later. It's close to that time, so you'll need to get there now!"

I was led by Wayde throughout the Templar raider camp. There were easily several dozen men. Altair would have to come up with a plan to dispatch them all.

"Ah! Here we are!" Wayde gestured to a make-shift ring in the centre of the camp. Training dummies and obstacles were strewn about it, and many were occupied. "You'd better get in some practice while you've got the chance, lad. It'll be brutal later."

I nodded slowly. "Thank-you, Wayde."

"Not a problem! Jus' doing my job!" Wayde left, leaving me at the mercy of the hopeful-Templars who eyed me with superior grins on their faces.

I sighed. _Why did I ever allow this...?_

Rather than practicing, I sat on a nearby bench and surveyed my surroundings. Pigeons were scarce, and I'd need trained ones, so it would be obvious if one went missing. I resolved to leave clues that only Altair, Maria or Darim would know the meaning to. As I was thinking what they could be, one of the lead Templars stepped into the ring.

"Hopefuls!" his voice rang out, catching our attention immediately. "We're starting! Get the equipment out of the ring!"

I helped to bring the dummies out while slowing my racing heart. If I made a mistake, I'd be done for. No second chances on infiltration, especially if they found out about my... abilities...

"Good. You work quickly." The Templar strode across the ring until he was at the centre, where he stopped. "You've probably been told the rules a dozen times before, but I'll say them once more: this is a deathmatch. The one who survives is our new recruit in our esteemed Order. You may use any weapon or weapons you bring into the ring, but you may only face one enemy at a time. We will give you all numbers, and then you may draw a number from a box we will supply, and that will be the person you face. If you, by chance, receive your own number, you will draw for another. Understood?"

We all nodded. Every man near me was definitely larger than I was. I could see from their eyes that I was already an easy target for them. At least Wayde gave good advice, for a Templar.

"You there!" The Templar pointed a finger at me. "You're number eight. Remember that."

I nodded curtly, forcing back a glare. Minutes later, a box was passed around. I reached inside, drew out a piece of parchment, and glanced at the number. A man came around and asked what I'd gotten.

"Five," I told him. He nodded and wrote the number down, asking for my own afterwards.

My opponent turned out to be a burly man in his mid-thirties, who looked to be of Mongolian descent. Most of the hopefuls were, but there was also an Englishman and a Frenchman among them. I was obviously Arabic, though pale enough to pass for a person of English descent. Luckily, my eyes hadn't drawn as much attention as I'd feared they would. There was a man (whose number was two) with amber eyes, so I guessed that the Templars had received all manner of people with oddities about them.

"Would the first match begin?" the Templar asked.

Mine was to be second, so I sat on my bench and watched. The two men who entered were both of Mongolian descent, though one was a bit lankier than the other. Their numbers were four and six.

Four removed his shirt, revealing a broad chest and his obvious preference of fist-fighting, as he had no weapons anywhere near him. Six had daggers strapped almost everywhere on his being, and seemed to know how to use them.

The fight, surprisingly, took only a few minutes once it began. Four easily overpowered Six through sheer muscle and slammed him against the sand and dirt of the ground, but Six drew one of his many daggers and plunged it into Four's thigh repeatedly. Four released Six in an attempt to stop the flow of blood, but Six leaped onto Four and plunged two daggers into the larger man. Four, however, didn't give up without a fight, and snapped the other man's neck with incredibly large and powerful hands. Both were dead within the next few seconds.

The Templar smirked and shook his head. "Well then, it's obvious that _they'll_ not be joining us for the next round." Once the bodies were dragged out, the Templar gestured to me and Five. "You two are next. Come now; let's not dawdle."

I closed my eyes and took a breath. _This is it... Just remember, Suna: you are an Assassin. And no Templar will ever change that._

I opened my eyes and stepped into the ring.

_**1529**_

__"Wrong!" I snapped.

Marcello glared at me. "Then how would you have me do it, _maestro_?"

I drew my sword and hit the training dummy a few times. "Like _this_! You are swinging just to swing! There must be _meaning_ behind each blow!"

"Even if the meaning is my desire to be cutting you with this thing?!" Marcello retorted.

"Si, if it helps."

Marcello started to attack the training dummy again, and this time he was much better at it. Vanni and Mario had been as reluctant to learn as he, but Ezio learned because it had been _fun_, and part of his boyhood. His son had to learn the hard way; through strict training.

Marcello had asked that I teach him enough to defend his family if any Templars returned, and I'd been glad to accept. He would decide whether-or-not he wanted to become an Assassin. Flavia had expressed an interest in the occupation, but their mother had asked that they wait to make a decision. Ezio had been an Assassin for most of his life, and had sacrificed the life he could have had to ensure that others would be able to live theirs.

"We can take a break now, Marcello," I said to the boy.

He glanced at me. "I want to practice more."

"If that is your wish." I sat down on a bench and tossed my throwing knives into a target. I wasn't sure where they hit, since I hadn't been paying attention. "Are you feeling well?"

"Si. Fine." Marcello assaulted the dummy again, but he was obviously tired. "Did you train like this when you were young?"

"By your age, I was used to it. I started when I was seven, so I had extra time."

Marcello nodded. "So... What was it like?"

"What?"

"Being an Assassin. Well, training to be one."

I smirked. "Well, it was an experience. I had nothing else, and the cause I wanted to fight for was worth it, I knew. It was hard though; besides my mother, I was the only female Assassin. Prejudices haven't changed much over the years, but now, women are seen more frequently in the Assassins. Less so in the Templars. My mother was a special case."

"She was a Templar?"

"Si." I nodded. "She didn't want to be stuck in a life of dresses and dances and men, so she left everything behind to join the Crusades and fight for a cause with the Templars."

Marcello was silent for a moment, his head clouded with thoughts. "What changed her mind?"

"My father," I replied curtly. "See, Assassins and Templars are not completely different; we both strive for peace. But where the Templars would take away one's free will and stop new ideas from springing forth, the Assassins work to preserve that will, believing that peace can be obtained through that way."

"But if there is no order, how can there be peace?" Marcello prodded.

"If all is in order, how can there truly be peace?" I countered. "We hope, Marcello, that people will eventually join together and work for such a thing. If their will is stolen, si, there will be peace, but it will bring a silence about the world that is unfathomable. And what of the men controlling that order? Their free will would yet remain, but when they die? Then everything would become ruins, since those who control all will no longer be there. Free will ensures survival, Marcello, and it ensures humanity's perseverance."

The young Auditore boy nodded in understanding. "I see..." He came over and sat on the bench beside me, placing his blade on the ground. "I'll take that break now. I suppose there's no harm in it."

I grinned at him. At least he could learn.


	6. Worlds Away

Chapter Five:

Worlds Away

_**1918**_

__Most of the journey was consumed by an empty silence between Anastasia and I. I didn't blame her. Her entire family, murdered before her eyes. I was angry with myself that I couldn't save them all, but at least the Romanov line was still alive. Her assassins thought differently. We could count our blessings.

I opened a pouch in my belt and frowned at the meagre amount of food left. I sighed and carefully made my way across the train storage car to Anastasia and held out the food.

"You should eat. You haven't in days," I told her.

She scoffed at the offering. "Keep it. I don't want it."

"Now, now, Grand Duchess, don't make me force-feed you."

Anastasia glared up at me. Her eyes were red and puffy from the tears she'd shed, but she was still wearing that same stubborn line that was her mouth. Regardless, she took the food in her hands. I just hoped she wouldn't toss it back at me.

"How are your wounds?" she asked hesitantly.

"I bandaged them up when you fell asleep," I lied, remembering the gunshot wounds I had received from protecting her.

She glanced at my torso and frowned, but started to eat a bit. I quickly climbed onto some luggage and opened the hatch at the top of the car so I could see where we were. Once I had a good idea, I sighed.

"We've finally hit France," I told her as I closed the hatch.

Anastasia's eyes clouded. She was probably thinking about the new life she'd have to lead.

"We're not stopping here though. If we could get all the way to America, or even Canada, you'd be safe."

"All the way over there?!" Anastasia looked downcast. "It's... an entire world away..."

I nodded slowly. "I know how _that_ feels..."

_**1431**_

__"Jean-Luc, do you think you can handle her for now?" I asked the French Assassin.

He nodded and put his fist over his heart. "I shall. What is so important that you must go all the way back to Italie?"

I shrugged. "Friends called in a favour. I owe them."

"Would I know them?"

"In the future, perhaps. The Assassins in Italia still don't have a very active base, so I'll help them where I can. But if anyone comes to Spagna with the name 'Auditore', ask for me. They'll know."

Jean-Luc grinned. "Speaking of which, what am I to do with Jeanne?"

"Take her to Assassin headquarters in Spagna, send her back to Francia, marry her... Take your pick, amico."

Jean-Luc's face went red. "W-What are you talking about—?!"

"_Please_, Jean! You're two young French people! I'll be surprised if you don't even _try_. I mean, that woman could be an Assassin! _That's_ how tough she is!" I grinned. "Unless you like helpless damsels in distress better? Men! Always trying to be heroes...!"

"Sofia, I hate you sometimes. I really do."

I hugged him and then waved as I walked away. "Use that to help your training, idiota! And don't show your face in front of me again unless you can defend against a few measly _raiders_!"

_**1225**_

__Five cracked his knuckles and then drew his blade. I gauged just how strong he could possibly be. Considering the muscles he had, I guessed that he could snap my neck just as easily as he could rip a blade of grass from the ground. I was lucky that I had my speed and skill on my side.

He suddenly attacked, quicker than I'd anticipated. I had to dive out of the way and into the sand to evade him. Five whirled around and tried to attack again, but I was already on my feet, my blade out and at the ready.

_So much for speed being on my side,_ I thought remorsefully.

His blade slammed onto mine and pushed me back to the edge of the ring. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some Templars ready their crossbows. If I fell out, I guessed that I'd be shot.

_But I... I won't die._

I brought up my knee and hit Five in the soft spot, and then swept my leg under his. As he fell, I slid underneath him and angled his body until he was falling forward, out of the ring. I heard the crossbow bolts fire, but I didn't bother to look. It was lucky that he was so big; I'd been able to use his own weight against him.

"The winner is...?" The Templar leader studied my face. I didn't let him linger on my eyes.

"Rowan Saxton," I finished for him. "I'm from England."

The Templar frowned. "I don't remember your name being on the list."

"I was a last-minute addition," I assured him.

"I can see why." The Templar sighed. "Regardless, you've won. Three more rounds must be fought before you fight again, so you have some time. Enjoy it. It could very well be your last."

I smirked at him. "Don't worry about that. I'll win."

"Spoken like a true Templar!"

I flinched inwardly, a shiver travelling the length of my spine. It was lucky for me that the next bout was starting, and Wayde took his chance to speak to me once more.

"Nice work, lad! You didn't even get your blade dirty with that one!" Wayde clapped me on the back and almost made me fall forward onto my face. "I think you'll go far!"

I shrugged, unable to think of anything else to say. Wayde's eyes lingered on my face for a while as if he was expecting a reply, and then he shrugged in turn.

"You're still shy, boy?" Wayde asked. "No need to be! You're among brothers here!"

My eyes narrowed. "Not yet."

"Ha! But you said it yourself! You're definitely going to win!"

"Regardless, I am not among your ranks yet."

Wayde burst out in laughter. "I like you, Master Saxton! You seem the best of all these men!"

I bit my lip, unsure of how to reply. "Wayde, I need to find a way to make the time pass. You wouldn't happen to have any books lying around, would you?"

"A reader, then? Aye, there are some books around here. Anything you prefer?"

"Art?"

Wayde chuckled. "_And_ he has taste! I'll look for something, so wait here a spell."

I nodded and crouched in a resting position as Wayde left, my eyes surveying the camp. Men huddled closely around the numerous fires, their weapons either at their sides or beside their tents. Most of the Templars were Mongolian, but I spotted some Arabs, Egyptians, Englishmen and Frenchmen among them. They looked fairly new to the Templars.

_So most of them have recently been recruited..._ I rubbed my chin. _Their numbers explain the damage they've caused and the number of Assassins that have recently disappeared, but not how they've managed to conceal themselves. Unless..._ I snapped my fingers and smirked. _They are certain to have a high-ranked Templar around. They are attempting to build an army, and the fact that the recruits have to kill each other to enter mean that they only want the best. No bodies for the sake of a sword; they want to kill any and every Assassin they discover. I'd best be careful__—._

"Oi, lad!" Wayde caught my attention, and I immediately stood up straight. He smirked from under his greyed beard. "What's with that look on your face?"

I took the green-bound book from Wayde's hands and flipped to the very first page. "Just thinking. I miss England, but I won't return until I've become stronger," I lied.

Wayde grinned. "That's a good goal, Master Saxton! Keep it up, and you'll do fine!"

I nodded. "Would you happen to know where I'm staying?"

"Not yet. You haven't beat your next—and final—opponent quite yet. Should you win, you'll be given your lodgings."

"A shame. I was hoping to read this in private—."

Wayde put his hands up. "Now, old on a minute! There's always the forest! The men rarely wander too far inside of it, and so long as you return promptly when we call you, you'll be allowed to go there."

I smiled at him. "Thank-you, Wayde. I'll return."

I headed towards the forest, my eyes pouring through the book I'd been given but my feet taking me directly to where I wanted to be. When I was deep enough into the forest, I unleashed my hidden blade on a tree that had moss covering most of it. I carved the Assassin's insignia on it, then covered it with moss. Surely, Altair's senses would be able to find my clue. I would return later when I knew where we were to go.

I hurried back to the camp to find my next opponent ready to go; the Frenchman. He twirled his rapier the moment he saw me and smiled wickedly.

"Ah! Master Saxton!" Wayde beckoned me over and took the book from my hands. "I'll hold onto this as you fight this man. Good luck!"

I stepped into the sandy ring and frowned at the Frenchman. He continued to spin his sorry excuse for a blade (it seemed more like a twig to me), as if he was trying to intimidate me. I decided not to underestimate it. He'd defeated two opponents already. They had likely found their deaths at the end of the twig.

"Are you afraid, Anglais?" he asked, twirling his thin moustache.

I placed my hands on my hips. "Hardly. Though, if you wore less of that white powder on your face, I might not be so distracted."

He sneered at me. "English pig! Your society is so very unfortunate!"

"Indeed. Explain that to my blade, and then pass on the message to that twig you call a 'sword'."

The Frenchman pointed the rapier at me. "Surrender now, and I will let you—!"

I yawned, cutting him off. "If you're planning on boring me to death, it's working. Either start fighting me, lay down that twig, or impale yourself with it. Time is precious, no?"

"You salaud!"

He ran at me and jabbed his rapier in quick succession at my torso. I noticed that he was attempting to hit nerve points to render me unconscious or paralyzed. He was well-trained, but that seemed to be the only place he was targeting.

I leapt backwards as he continued his onslaught and drew my shortblade, holding it in front of me in an icepick grip. "That _can't_ be it! I thought you'd be stronger than—!"

The Frenchman drew a dagger with the same blade as his rapier, albeit shorter. He was ambidextrous. I decided not to draw my sword and match him; I needed more practice with my shortblade anyhow.

He lunged at me, his eyes full of fire and fury. "Die, you merdique English pig!"

"Is that the only insult you have, Frenchman?!" His rapier slammed hard onto my shortblade while his dagger-like rapier came around and narrowly missed my ribs, mostly because I had jumped out of the way.

As his rapier came around again, I brought up my left wrist, and with its outside connected it with the outside of his own wrist. I deflected his own blow back to him, spun around and slammed my heel into his nose. I felt something break and watched as the Frenchman fell flat on his back, but he didn't release his weapons. I placed my foot on his chest and relaxed my armed hand by my side.

"Yield, Frenchman," I told him. "There's no place for you here. Your skills are not needed."

"You speak as if you've already joined the Templars!" the Frenchman spat. "You are nothing more than a whelp with a few flashy moves! I will not yield! Especially to an Englishman!"

I crouched, keeping my foot firmly placed on his chest. "The only reason you and I are fighting is because we want to be accepted into the Templars. Nothing more. This petty quarrel between the English and the French has nothing to do with this. We are all brothers and sisters in flesh and blood. If you surrender, I will spare your life, and you can fight another day to settle the score."

He sneered at me, but his eyes revealed that he was thinking over what I'd said. And then, the Frenchman sighed, his body relaxing. "Very well, Englishman."

I nodded and removed my foot from his chest. He slowly got up, rubbing his aching muscles, and then began to walk away.

Too bad he wasn't very smart.

"Ha! You think I'd fall for such a stupide trick?! Your brains are weak, English—!" His dagger nearly cut me, but my shortblade was at his throat too quickly. His body slumped to the ground as the blood pooled from his neck.

"Rest in peace, Frenchman," I muttered.


	7. Templar Mission

Chapter Six:

Templar Mission

_**1225**_

__"Before we can fully ascertain that you are loyal to our cause," the Templar (whose name I learned was Henry Charleston) said as he paced before me, "there is a village nearby. A recruit who recently betrayed his brothers is attempting to hide there. I want you to find him and kill him before our enemies discover his existence, and he reveals our location."

I bowed my head out of habit, and so was too late to stop myself from doing it. "It will be done," I affirmed.

Henry nodded curtly. His chest seemed to swell at the "respect" I had given him. "Good. I expect you to be done within the week, and return here. We will leave this location once you've rejoined us."

I backed away, keeping my head bowed until I had taken three steps away from the Templar man, and then spun away from him, intent on getting as far away from the Templar as possible. I got directions to the village from Wayde, who was a trusted hand of the Templar leader somewhere in the camp. I'd managed to gather enough information about their leader to understand that he did not appear to his recruits or normal soldiers; Wayde and Henry were among the few who even knew his face.

So, my plan for my infiltration was now in place: I would gain the trust of the Templars, and hopefully draw enough attention to myself that I might have both Henry and Wayde put in a good word for me, and then eliminate the Templar leader, should he meet with me. It would send his forces in disarray once they saw his body (which I needed to decide how I would properly display it), and give Altair and the Assassins their time to strike from the outside as the forces retreated, while I killed from the inside.

A sound plan, but anything could go wrong. I had to be cautious.

So, I made my way to the village that Henry and Wayde had directed me to. It was half a day's ride, so no trouble. I was just happy that my horse had been properly tended to.

I secured the mare to a post in the stables at the village and made my way to the inn, pulling my cowl over my face to obscure my features with shadow. I bought a drink with what money I had and sipped at it slowly at a table in the corner, listening to whatever conversations I could pick up. Eventually, a man entered, wearing a similar cloak to my own. I kept my gaze on him, and as if by instinct he glanced around, almost aware of me. But I smirked and suddenly focused on the blazing fire in the fireplace, and he moved on.

The man sat at a table with two others, their heads low and mouths moving at a fast pace. When the man sat down, he removed his hood and let it rest on his shoulders. Shoulder-length black hair trailed freely now that his hood wasn't a hindrance.

"I suspect someone comes soon," he murmured, his accent a heavy British. I recognized such an accent—that of many English soldiers who had occupied Acre, back when King Richard the Lionheart had held the city. "What news?"

"The message has been sent. In time, they will receive it." One of the men sitting at the table—an Arab, by the looks of him—searched the room with dark eyes. "What matters now is that we ensure your survival. They hunt you, and without a timely intervention, you will likely die."

The Englishman shook his head. "What have I gotten myself into...?"

The third man (who had a thick black beard) placed a hand on the Englishman's shoulder reassuringly. "Have faith. 'Tis only a recruit being sent after you, from what I hear. Killing him will put you in a good light."

"I don't want to kill," the Englishman moaned. "I just want to escape, by any means."

"Worry not. You will have your freedom." The two men stood up. "Safety and peace."

The Englishman nodded to them as my breath caught in my throat. I was certain that no other order would use such a phrase. So, was this man attempting to contact the Assassins?

After a time, the Englishman rose from the table and left the bustling inn. I counted slowly to three once he had passed through the doorway and followed him out. He sauntered off towards an old shack that seemed to be used for storage and entered promptly, shutting the wooden door made of kindling behind him. The hinges had squeaked, so there was no way I'd be able to follow him into such a small building without his knowledge. I scaled it until I stood on its wooden roof laden with straw and laid on my stomach, pressing my ear against the coolness of the wood.

I heard shuffling inside. It ceased after a while, so I concluded that he had chosen this place as his refuge. A poor choice. There was one window, and one door. Unless he'd laid traps inside (which I was hesitant to believe), he would be easily caught. I shook my head as I sat on the roof, resting my chin against my fist which was propped on my knee. I opted to wait a day or two and trail him in that time to discover his true intentions.

However, since it seemed that he had fallen asleep, I needed to keep busy. Following the men he'd met with seemed a good idea, so I left the former Templar's sanctuary. I retraced my steps and eventually found the two men conversing not far away from the inn. They were watching me as I rounded the corner, away from them, but their gazes didn't linger so I pressed my back against the wall and listened to their conversation.

"What did you do with the message?" the Arab asked.

The bearded man scoffed at him. "What do you think? I have it on me. Too risky to leave it at home. And besides, he's given us the money now. All we have to do is convince him that an Assassin come to aid him had been killed by the Templar sent after him."

"I don't like this..." The Arab shivered. "What if the Templars realize we've spoken to him? He's a fugitive! And what of the Assassins?! Haven't you heard that it was an Assassin that killed Genghis Khan?"

"Of course I've heard! I'd be surprised if it wasn't an Assassin." The bearded man tapped the pouch at his hip. "We've nothing to worry about, though. A man on the inside spoke to me. He said that Qulan Gal is occupied with the Levantine Assassin named Altair."

"Is that the Altair I think you're referring to?"

"It certainly is. I didn't understand the specifics, but they've gone off on a mission with Altair's son and wife. I even heard that some Assassins were trying to find the Templar raiders that our English friend escaped. But each Assassin's fate has been met at the end of a blade. The new one they sent won't make any difference."

"Who?"

"The Assassin sent to scout the Templars. I would not be surprised if they were already dead." The bearded man sighed. "It is late, and I am weary. I must take my leave."

"Be safe, friend. Remember with whom you deal."

"Of course, of course. Farewell."

The men parted, and the bearded man began to stalk towards me. I found a bench and sat on it in-between two others, hanging my head and pretending to find the dirt especially interesting until the bearded man passed. I stood up and deftly plucked my fingers into his pouch, drawing out the single rolled-up message inside. I hurried away and turned a corner, and when I peeked at the bearded man, it appeared that he hadn't noticed the move.

I leaned against the wooden wall and unrolled the message. It was written in English, but I'd need to take my time reading it. I wasn't as adept in reading the language as I was in speaking it. It was a weakness that needed to be studied.

_"To whom it may concern,_

_ "My name is Robert. A few days ago, I was accepted into the Templars, but I was unsure of what I was getting myself into. I have recently deserted them, but I knew enough of the Templars to know their enemies: the Assassins._

_ "This is why I write you; I wish to be rid of their influence. I never want to be part of such a thing again. I beg you to help me! I have no wish to kill, but I will find a way to repay your kindness, should you aid me._

_ "I lie in wait in a village a few days' ride of the battlefield where you Assassins fought Genghis Khan. But please, if you should help me, do not tarry! A Templar has been dispatched to kill me._

_ "I beg of you! Help me!_

My brows furrowed as I read, and I eventually concluded to aid him. After all, the Assassins had received his letter... In a sense.

I rolled the letter back up and found it a place in one of my cloak's pockets. First, I'd have to deal with the bearded man who wanted to double-cross the Englishman named Robert. But I'd have to be quick and discreet. I would allow him to survive so he would remember the Assassins, but I couldn't let him see my appearance, or he would surely send word to the Templars. That meant I couldn't show him my eyes, either.

_How I've missed missions like this..._ I smirked and pulled the cowl lower over my face, then punched my right fist into my left hand. _Time for some... interrogation._

_**1918**_

__It was early December by the time Anastasia and I arrived in America. It had been difficult to leave Europe, mostly due to the Great War and the busy ships filled with refugees and soldiers. But now the war was over. The soldiers were veterans, and the refugees were people attempting to rebuild their lives far from the carnage of death.

A fool notion, really. No one could escape death. Wherever one went, people would die.

"You look as if you've something on your mind." Anastasia snapped me from my thoughts. She believed us to be the same age (which, technically, we _were_), and since the last few months of travel together, she had become friendlier. I could still sometimes hear her crying in the night when she believed me to be asleep.

"Your English has gotten much better," I commented, shying her away from my thoughts. "I can barely hear your Russian accent any longer."

She looked slightly hurt that I had avoided her question, but she should have been used to it. I was trying to answer as little about myself as possible. Revealing anything about myself meant revealing the Assassins to her, and then I'd have to explain about Nikolai Orelov and his unique relationship with her family...

Ah, but what harm would come of a little insight? "I was thinking about the war," I admitted.

Anastasia's interest piqued as we stepped onto the harbour in Nova Scotia. I'd decided that Canada was our best bet, since so many had decided to head for the United States. If the assassins after her life knew she was alive (which they likely did), then they'd believe she'd want to get lost in a crowd.

"What about it?" she prompted.

I shrugged and hefted our shared meagre suitcase over my shoulder. "I wonder if this is truly the end. Another would surely see more devastation. And after that? I fear there will not be countries left to fight over."

"That is my fear," the former Grand Duchess admitted. "I am afraid for the Russian people. But what can I do now? The Romanov name holds nothing to it, and it was once one of the strongest powers in Europe. As a single person, change will be difficult."

"Amassing followers is more difficult still." I dodged around one of the many sailors as he stumbled about. "What would you do if you still held the power that the title 'Grand Duchess' gives?"

Anastasia was silent for the longest time. I wondered if she was even able to come to a conclusion, but by the time we reached a small hotel near the port, she had decided on an answer.

"I would fight for my people, and I wouldn't give up until they were free."

I smirked as I let the small suitcase fall onto the single twin bed. "So, what's stopping you now?"

"A certain someone refuses to aid me in the endeavour."

"I never refused."

Anastasia's eyes brightened. "Then help me—!"

"I never agreed, either." I grinned at her obvious disapproval. "One such as you should not be fighting. And anyway, how long until another war begins? It could be a hundred years—more!"

"But it could also be in only _one_!" Anastasia grabbed onto my sleeve. "_Please_. Teach me how to fight!"

I forcefully took her hands off of me and opened the suitcase. "I haven't been in North America in... Hm, a long time."

Anastasia understood that changing the subject in such a way meant a victory to me. No matter how she persisted, she would not be able to coerce me back into the previous conversation. Defeated, she sat on the bed and began to help fold the clothes into the tiny dresser in the room.

Perhaps soon, but not now. The Grand Duchess had yet to learn of the way the world worked. In time.


	8. Vengeful Actions

Chapter Seven:

Vengeful Actions

_**1225**_

__I had left a note for Robert indicating that the Assassins had received his message, the betrayal that the bearded man had intended upon him, and where he was to go for Assassin protection. I felt a bit of pride as Robert left. I had succeeded as an Assassin, but failed as a Templar.

Using the body of the bearded man, I faked the former Templar's death and burnt his body with the storage shack he'd used as a safe haven. No one would know the difference.

My return to the encampment was short-lived, and after leaving my horse to discover where we were bound for, I sprinted into the forest where I'd left my Assassin marker on the tree. Slashing an arrow that indicated north, I hurried back to my mare and mounted. We were leaving immediately, now that I'd successfully rid the Templars of their traitor.

As we moved across the countryside, I would leave subtle hints to our next location for Altair, certain that he would be able to follow. We moved much, and I was forced to look on as the Templars raided the countryside. I couldn't lift a finger to help, and it infuriated me, but it reminded me that Altair was on his way. He wouldn't let this injustice that the Templars were committing stand.

My "victory" against Robert earned me the respect and admiration of the Templars. Even as Suna Ibn-La'Ahad, I was respected amongst the Templars because of my reputation as "Suna of the Shadow-Step", but it was grudgingly given. But as Rowan Saxton, men gave it readily and tried to befriend me in hopes of learning some of my tricks. I'd even caught the attention of Templar higher-ups.

So, I went from mission to mission, attempting to solve each one as Assassin rather than Templar. Bodies were never discovered, many people were silenced with coin or fists, but not a single innocent was harmed. I would not abandon the Assassin's Creed for a simple undercover mission.

Eventually, late in the year, we arrived at a cliff far from where I'd began, but we were still somewhere in Mongolia. I hadn't seen a map in a good few weeks, so it was difficult to know where I was. This land was not mine, and though I'd spent a number of years walking upon it, it still evaded my curiosity.

I had no way to know when Altair would come, only that it would be soon. The cliff nearby would be an excellent place to dump the bodies of the Templars. I was, however, regretful that Wayde would have to die. He had been kind to me. He would have made a great Assassin.

It was midday when I finally retired to my tent, weary of listening to the garbage the Templar recruits were spewing. I admit that I sometimes let my guard down and join in with them in games and drinking, but I would have to continue to remind myself that they were Templars; men who shared the same goals as the Assassins, certainly, but who had a different vision of it in their minds.

_"Suna, what is it the Assassins seek?"_ Altair had asked me years ago, when I was a child.

_"Peace, in all things,"_ I'd answered readily.

Altair had smiled. _"Yes, in all things."_ He'd poked his index finger against my heart. _"That means yourself as well, little one. Respect your enemies; do not hate them."_

I smiled at the memory. Altair, my father, my mentor... the man I admired and respected above all. As a child, he'd been my hero. He'd been the one, above all others, that I'd wanted to take pride in my actions and words. In my eyes, he _was_ my father. But he was also an Assassin, and I alongside him. I would make him proud as my Grandmaster before my father.

I was nearly asleep when Wayde unceremoniously entered my tent. The older man was breathless, his eyes filled with excitement.

"We've got a plan, lad!" he exclaimed. "Come! You're to bear witness!"

Curious, I hurried out of my tent and followed Wayde to the cliffs. Several dozen Templar raiders were clumped together, watching the edge, and Wayde shoved through them all. When we were at the front of the raiders, Wayde halted.

A man I didn't recognize was holding a Templar recruit by the scruff of his collar over the edge. The man had tears staining his face, and from the putrid smell, I guessed that he'd also wet himself.

"Mercy!" the man cried. "Please! I-I'll do anything!"

"_Mercy_?! Like you showed those people?! Those _innocents_?!" The man holding him had a large grey cape adorning his shoulders. One look told me that he was their leader, the elusive man that Altair himself had difficulty with discovering. "And now the Assassins are on our tail! Because of _you_!"

"Please, sir—!"

The Templar heard nothing of it, and released the man. His screams penetrated the cold Mongolian air until the sound of his body slamming into the rocks below ceased it. My mouth turned into a hard line as I examined the Master Templar. Three scars ran along the right side of his face, outlining his muscular features. But he was a young man, and my own age suddenly became apparent to me. I shuddered at the thought of our age difference. _Henry_ was closer to my own age than the Templar standing before us.

"You heard right!" the man spat as he narrowed his eyes at us. "The Assassins are coming! They've been on our trail for a long time! Because you _idiots_ raided the last village and killed all of the inhabitants, they are searching for blood! But we'll not deny them; though it will be _theirs_ by the time the day ends!"

As if forgetting the death of their comrade, the men unsheathed their blades and cheered. They spread out, readying themselves for the fight against the Assassins. I wondered about the "plan" Wayde had mentioned.

"Sir!" Wayde waved the Master Templar over, who almost seemed to scowl at the sight of me. "This is the recruit you wanted to see!"

The Master Templar's demeanour brightened significantly. "This is he?"

"Aye, sir!"

Before I could do anything, the Master Templar shook my hand heartily. "Welcome! I've heard of your talents, Master Saxton! You do the order a great amount of aid!"

"I-I'm only doing as I'm told," I sputtered, dumbstruck.

The Master Templar grinned. "My name is Conrad. That is all you need address me as."

I nodded. "Very well... Conrad."

Conrad clapped me on the shoulder. "Now, I'm sure Wayde's told you that we've a plan ready, did he not?"

"He did."

"Good man!" Conrad and Wayde regarded one another. "Now, we've been aware of Assassins for the past few months attempting to scout us and report us. The ones we found, we've killed, but I'm certain that an Assassin named Qulan Gal sent yet another of those infidels at us." Conrad winked. "But we've spread a rumour in the last village: we've 'captured' the Assassin, and are about to execute them. Some valuable information came to my attention not long ago, and the Assassin sent after us is named, 'Suna'. Apparently, the Assassin is important to yet another Assassin by the name of Altair, so the Assassins are sure to act rashly when they attack."

So, the Templars were pretending to use me as bait? I almost snorted, but I held it back.

"Why tell me this?" I asked.

Conrad smiled. "You're to lead an Assassin to me. I will be waiting here by the cliff using one of the dead villagers as bait. I'll put a sack over her head and dress her in Templar regalia to dishonour the Assassins, and then I'll toss the body over the cliff when the Assassin gets close. That Assassin will retreat and inform the others of the death. Surely, the Assassins will either retreat and we may relocate, or they will all die, blinded by rage. We win either way." Horns sounded. My heart pounded erratically in my chest as Conrad's hand clapped my shoulder once again. "They've been spotted. On your way now; you wouldn't miss a chance in killing your first Assassin, now would you?"

I ran into the mass of raiders. I wondered just who had come to attack. I was certain Altair was one of them, but did Maria come? Darim? Qulan? Any other Assassin? Altair wouldn't risk an assault, so he'd likely shoot volleys of arrows to make it seem like more Assassins were there—.

"ARROWS!" a Templar screamed before one penetrated his throat.

I slid underneath a table for cover, reaching for my hood out of habit only to remember that I didn't have one. When the arrows ceased, I sprinted out from under the table, leaping over barrels and bodies. I was lucky that all of my blades were with me, else I'd have to stop by my now-ruined tent.

I skidded to a halt in the dirt and sand, panting with exhaustion and excitement. I took a risk and rubbed my eyes, but when I looked up once more, I was blinded by sunlight.

And then the glint of a blade as the light reflected from it.

On instinct, I rolled out of the way. The hidden blade came crashing down, narrowly missing me. I didn't bother to see who it was, so I began sprinting back towards Conrad. I felt a small bit of regret growing inside of me as I thought about Conrad's impending death, but I pushed it away, burying it deep. He was a Templar. I was an Assassin. I _would_ _not_ allow the Templars to tamper with my emotions.

I reached the cliff where Conrad was. He smiled at me and nodded. The white-clad Assassin rounded the corner and saw us. The Assassin was too far away for me to distinguish who he was, but his eyes snapped from me to Conrad, and then to the decoy's body. I would just have to ensure Conrad died before the Assassin tried to kill me.

"Another step, Assassin, and your comrade dies!" Conrad yelled mockingly.

I shuffled slowly towards Conrad, taking my time. The Assassin sneered at the Master Templar.

"You wouldn't be able to do it fast enough," the Assassin goaded. I almost beamed when I heard his voice. _Altair_.

Conrad wasted no time with words and released the body. Altair had bluffed and lost. The decoy fell from the cliff. I almost spun on Conrad, but Altair was lightning-fast and shoved me out of the way. I nearly fell from the cliff, but managed to regain my balance as Altair unleashed his hidden blade upon the young Templar. I watched with an eerie fascination as Altair's blade savoured its moment, doused in the blood of our enemy.

My shoulders sagged, weary with relief, and I walked towards Altair. My hand reached out to grab his shoulder when he leapt off of Conrad's body and lunged for my throat. I side-stepped, immediately on my guard. Altair attacked me with his sword, the blade shining in the sunlight like it had all those years ago, when we'd first met.

"Wait—!"

Altair's sword slammed onto mine with a strength I had never felt from him before. He roared in rage, his eyes blinded by anger. I started to panic. Was Altair mad?!

But then I realized that the last time I'd cut my hair (last week, incidentally), I had made a mistake and cut it short, close to my head, much like Altair's. While it had given me a smile at the memory of Altair, I was displeased that I looked much more like a boy.

Altair simply didn't recognize me, and the sunlight was so blinding that he couldn't see my eyes. Not only that, but he expected a woman of forty. He didn't expect someone young like me.

I opened my mouth to speak—to explain, when Altair's foot rammed into my gut. With unparalleled ease, Altair disarmed me and slammed the butte of his silver blade onto my head. I fell forward into the dirt, not daring to raise a blade against him, and Altair's hand latched onto my short hair, dragging me harshly towards the edge of the cliff. He replaced his sword and grabbed his shortblade, the rage not lost in his eyes.

He pressed the shortblade against my throat as my head dangled over the edge. My eyes squeezed shut as I fought against Altair, pushing his blade away from my neck, but even in his old age Altair's strength was incredible. I gasped as he punched my stomach, but dared not let out a cry.

"_You killed her_!" he seethed, his body rippling in rage. "You killed my _daughter_, you son of a bitch!"

He punched again. Tears stained my face as fear grabbed hold. I couldn't explain to Altair with no breath, and most of my focus—most of my strength was trying to stop him from cutting my throat—.

A white-hot pain entered my side and I screamed, unable to hide it. Altair's hidden blade retracted from my right side, covered in my blood. My arms lost the battle with Altair, and his shortblade pressed once more against my throat. A thin trail of blood began to appear where the blade was pressed, and Altair stabbed me with his hidden blade once more.

"Stop crying and be a man!" Altair snapped. "You killed women and children, and you cannot handle a blade in yourself?!" He grabbed my collar and brought me close. "Why couldn't you Templars just leave her alone?! Why did you have to make her suffer?!" He dropped me, knocking what breath was left in my lungs out. "For that, I will make _you_ suffer!"

Altair raised the shortblade above his head and plunged it into my unarmoured chest. I screamed, agony ripping through my body. Looking at Altair, I realized the fear that I saw in my enemies as I'd approached them. The white hood, the weapons, the eyes of a killer... The Assassins looked like Death incarnate. Was I to become a victim of Altair?

I was shaking as Altair had gotten off of me. My throat was only slightly cut, but he'd left his shortblade in my chest. My hands gripped the hilt, staining its beautiful silver red with my blood. I didn't pull it out in time; Altair had already removed the Apple from his pouch. The fear I had from the artefact could only be matched by the terror I felt for Altair in that moment.

"You will take that blade," Altair said, his voice a chilling monotone, "and you will stab yourself until I stop you. And then you will run the blade across your throat, and you will die."

The Apple sprang to life, glowing a morbid gold in Altair's hands. I felt my control over my body leave me, and I stood, begging myself to stop. The Apple... I could feel it. I could feel it inside of me. It burned, more so than fire. Fire could not even compare, but I couldn't scream. The Apple stopped me.

My hands clamped down firmly on the hilt of Altair's shortblade and pulled it from my chest, a terrible squelching sound following it. My strength failed me as I raised the blade above my head and stabbed it over and over again into my torso. The Apple refused to allow me to show him the agony I was going through. It seemed as if it took pleasure in making me suffer.

I suddenly stopped as the blade was raised above my head. I'd lost count of how many times. I should have passed out from the pain, but the Apple wanted me to suffer. The artefact wanted me to experience it all.

"Draw the blade across your throat," Altair ordered.

When I looked at Altair, I saw tears staining his blood-and-dirt-caked face. He was sad. He thought I was dead, and he didn't know how to handle it, so he took out his anger and sorrow on the closest Templar, and that just happened to be me.

The Apple allowed me to close my eyes, and I did so as I ran the blade across my throat.


	9. Allow Me

Chapter Eight:

Allow Me

_**2012**_

__It turned out to be easy to escape Bill in the Grand Temple, and for that I was grateful. But I didn't like being cooped-up. I didn't like waiting for Desmond in the Animus, with the Templars out there, ready and waiting to kill the remaining Assassins.

My hand was sore from writing, but there were a few letters I needed to compose. I don't know—I just felt as if I needed to. My hand eventually cramped and I put the pen down, shaking my sore limb. I sighed as sleep decided to make an annoying return. I didn't need sleep. There was still too much to do, and sleep would waste the precious hours we had left.

Minutes after I had put my head down on the stone I was using as a desk to rest, I felt hands on my shoulders. I knew out of instinct that it was Walter. No one else would be so gentle (except, perhaps, Rebecca).

"Time to sleep then?" he asked gently.

"Don't wanna," I grumbled. "But my body's telling me to, and I can only avoid it for so long."

I could practically _feel_ Walter smiling. "Then I'll find something suitable so you aren't so sore when you wake up."

"_Please_. I could sleep upside-down if I had to."

"Too bad." I smirked. Walter was doing really well with integrating to the times.

I closed my eyes, intending to just rest them for a moment, and when I opened them again I was lying on the ground in a sleeping bag. I wondered why I was so warm, and then I realized that it was because of Walter. His arms were wrapped around me, and I could hear him snoring softly. I must have been much more exhausted than I'd thought if I didn't wake up when someone touched me.

It took me a moment to realize that Walter was wearing a T-shirt of Desmond's, but Desmond had a leaner build than Walter. I smirked at the thought of Walter in a T-shirt, since I was still so used to him wearing Revolution-era clothing. The hairs on Walter's arms were standing on end because they were outside of the sleeping bag, and it was rather cold outside of it.

It was my body that moved before my mind could fully comprehend what I was doing: I moved closer to him and held his hands. Perhaps Walter was awake, though I doubted it, but he gently squeezed my hands as I entwined our fingers. The movement felt about as natural as slitting a Templar's throat... which probably shouldn't have been, but what can you do?

A few more minutes passed in a blissful silence, and then Walter stirred and found my neck with his lips.

"Forget food. This is the best breakfast," he murmured, a bit disoriented from sleep.

I turned onto my other side to face him, resting my forehead onto the crook between his neck and shoulder. He chuckled, his chest rising, and then wrapped his arms more comfortably around me.

"I want to stay with you forever like this, Sara."

I smirked. "Just for now… who says we have to leave?"

Walter grinned, but apparently I'd spoke too soon. Bill found the area that Walter and I had made our own, and tossed an envelope onto our sleeping bag. Grumbling curses in multiple languages, I snatched it and glared daggers at the man.

"Something _fun_ for you to do," Bill said, pointing to the envelope. "I got some intel that Templars might attack this place, so I want you to go and do what you can. Bring Walter along, since you'll need to blend in."

Blend in? I ripped the envelope open. A letter fell onto my lap, and I read it as quickly as I could. I looked up at Bill incredulously.

"A wedding? Seriously?" I growled distastefully.

Bill folded his arms across his chest. "The aunt of Emma Hale is getting married. She's a friend of mine, so I'd like for you to attend."

"And why can't you?" I retorted.

"Desmond," Bill stated matter-of-factly. "We've got a mission in Manhattan as it is, and Desmond's coming along. So, you'd better get ready."

I frowned. "Have I ever told you that I like my 'me' time?"

"Never."

"Liar."

Smirking triumphantly, Bill left Walter and I. Said boyfriend was sitting up, tousling his already unruly hair before he kissed my neck again, and then his hand traced the lightest of my scars: the one on my neck.

"I didn't notice this one before…" he murmured.

I smiled, but the old fear I'd buried in my heart rose to the surface a bit. "It's an old one. Got it in Mongolia."

"After the Apple?" he prompted.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah…"

"Then how'd it scar?"

I shook my head. "We're not that far into the story now, are we? Be patient—you're almost there."

_**1225**_

__My eyes peeled open to reveal a starry sky, high above me. My back was sore, and seemed to groan when I sat up. My head felt limp, and my chin rested on my chest. Blood stained my once white shirt in a heavy cascade of red. My hand went up to my neck and my fingers traced it. The open flesh was painful to the touch, and it explained why my throat was so cold. Breathing, I realized, was much more difficult than before.

Tearing a sleeve of my shirt to reveal the old scar on my shoulder, I wrapped the pathetic material around my neck to keep anything that could fall out in place. My mind was groggy as I looked upwards once more and saw the jutting shape of the cliff above me. I wondered how I managed to get so far down.

_The last thing I remember is… Altair..._

My heart thudded loudly in my chest. Altair had thought I was a Templar. He thought I was dead, so he took out his rage on me. My body involuntarily shook in terror at the memory. His eyes flashing in rage, his hidden blade stabbing me, the sneer on his face as he brought out the Apple, his tears...

I could appreciate the fear that Templars or any of my targets showed when I'd approached them in similar robes, adorned with weapons.

I gulped, pain suddenly erupting from my throat. Cringing, I managed to get to my feet, only to fall on my backside seconds later. Another attempt later, and I was climbing the cliff by finding pathways. I was relieved that there were so many goat paths, so I wouldn't have to scale it in my state.

When I neared the top of the cliff, I heard the crackling of a fire. Peering into the darkness, I could just barely make out a fire several yards from my position, and three figures surrounded it, sitting closely to it in an effort to warm themselves from the biting wind.

A fourth eventually joined them, but he stood. I recognized him, even from where I was—Qulan Gal.

"Any news?" Altair's voice pierced through the cold. I couldn't find the same comfort in it; his voice made me shiver.

Qulan shook his head. "No. I apologize, but there's no sign."

Altair nodded slowly. His hood rested on his shoulders, revealing his head. Despite his age, he still had his hair closely cropped to his skull.

"I will return to the Assassins and get them reorganized," Qulan murmured. "No doubt you will want to give the news to the rest of your family... and the Levantine Assassins."

Again, Altair nodded. "Thank-you, Qulan. For everything."

"We are brothers in our cause, Altair." Qulan put a hand on the Grandmaster's shoulder for reassurance. "Brothers aid one-another. I hope from the bottom of my heart that you find peace."

Altair's shoulders sagged. "To you as well... brother."

Qulan gave a last clap on the Grandmaster's shoulder for encouragement, then embraced both Darim and Maria in their respective ways, gripping Darim's forearm and customarily kissing Maria's hand. And then he was gone, enveloped into the darkness of the night.

I crept towards the fire, my heart hammering so loudly that I was certain they could hear it. Maria held her face in her hands as she sat back on the ground, and Darim stared at the flames. My brother eventually shook his head.

"She can't be dead," he stated, his voice barely above a whisper. "She _can't_ be."

Our parents didn't answer, deciding rather to leave an open and foreboding silence. My foot brushed up against cold steel, and I looked down to see my silver blade. I picked it up from the sand. My eyes lingered on the blade for too long—someone caught a reflection.

"Who's there?!" Altair leapt to his feet, drawing his sword. Maria and Darim were standing with their weapons out as well, pointing them into the darkness. Altair could see the gleam of my blade from the stars and the moonlight.

I hurried to find my voice, but the wound on my throat stopped me. I was lucky that I was far enough from the fire that they wouldn't recognize it.

But, then again, they wouldn't recognize _me_.

"It seems I overlooked one of you!" Altair growled as he marched closer to me.

I shook my head hurriedly, but cringed from the pain. Altair slammed his weapon onto mine and kicked before I could think of my situation. His foot caught me in the side, where he'd stabbed me twice with his hidden blade, and I tried to scream to release my pain. What I got was a bloody, throaty sound. It could barely pass for a human being.

Altair attacked again with renewed vigour. I ignored my pain and brought my blade up to defend from him. With each passing second, I regained my composure as an Assassin and fended him off to the best of my abilities. However many hours ago we'd encountered one another, now I wasn't so shocked that my father was fighting me.

I was surprised when Darim leapt into the fray. I had to fend off two skilled fighters in the darkness, while trying to figure out a way to tell them who I was, to tell them to stop.

Darim, at one point, lunged for my back. Without thinking, I activated my hidden blade and blocked his incoming shortblade while in a lock with Altair. Darim's eyes widened at the revelation of a hidden blade. He leapt back to give us space and assess the situation.

Altair roared in anger. Perhaps he thought I'd taken the weapons I had from my own corpse. Whatever the case, he attacked with a fury that made me shake to the very core of my being.

I heard the sound of a bolt leaving a crossbow, and my fears were realized when the bolt struck me in the back. Darim reloaded his favoured weapon as I laid on the sand, gasping for air. Altair grabbed my short hair and dragged me closer to the fire. Temporarily forgetting the pain, I thrashed about to escape, even attacking Altair with my hidden blade, but he blocked it seamlessly with his own.

He made me kneel before the fire. My eyes were shut tight, brimming with tears, resigned and awaiting the incoming pain of whatever he had planned for me. Altair stripped me of my gear and tossed it all to the ground, and then rounded on me. He stood in front of me, towering over me ahead of the fire. My head was looking down so he couldn't see the open wound of my throat.

"Your shirt is covered in blood," Altair growled. "Did you kill your Templar brothers in an effort to escape?!"

When I didn't answer, Altair spat to the side and unsheathed his hidden blade. I shook, not from the wind, but from his very presence. Altair said nothing more as he raised his hidden blade above me, ready to plunge it downwards, when Darim grabbed hold of Altair's bracer.

Eyes erupting with fury, Altair glared at his son. "_What_?!" he hissed.

Darim's eyes narrowed. "A moment, father. Please."

Altair hesitated, but stepped away and crossed his arms as he watched his eldest son. Darim looked at the discarded gear on the ground, and then found my hidden blade. He examined it for a time before he looked at me and stepped forward, holding the hidden blade out.

"Darim!" Altair interjected.

My brother glared at his father. "_Trust me_."

Maria held onto Altair, and she seemed to be the only thing holding him back. Darim took my hands and placed the hidden blade in them.

"Now, how would you know to use such a thing?" he asked gently.

Very carefully, I fastened the hidden blade around my left forearm and flicked my wrist to activate it. They all jumped, aware of the danger, but relaxed when the blade wasn't faced at them.

I sliced the Assassin insignia into the sand. It was easier to draw than my own name, so I settled for it. Darim looked at it and smirked.

"You want to join the Assassins?" he interpreted.

I mentally rolled my eyes. _Fool,_ I thought sourly, but I didn't dare look up at him, or they would see the wound in my neck.

"Wait a moment..." Darim's hand pressed against my stomach. Blood from my semi-self-inflicted wounds began to flow anew, and I bit back tears of pain. "What happened to you...?"

"_You_!" Altair snarled.

I shook in terror, squeezing my eyes tighter as Darim's hand pulled away. "Father?"

"This _Templar_ led me to Suna." Altair clenched his fists. "He brought me to watch Suna _die_. So I thought I'd killed him. I see now that I jumped to conclusions."

Breaking free of Maria, Altair's foot slammed hard onto my chest. I fell back in a heap, my throat exposed. I heard Darim stand immediately and back away. Maria's hands flew to her mouth in shock, and Altair planted his foot firmly on the wound he'd inflicted onto my chest. My hands clenched at the sand in hopes to expel the pain, but it wasn't working.

"I won't overlook it again!" Altair unleashed both of his hidden blades and plunged them into my sides. I attempted a scream, but only got the gurgling sound from before. "Allah, guide my blade! Just _die_, you goddamn Templar!"

Tears escaped my eyes as Altair stabbed again and again. I couldn't take any more, but my suffering wasn't stopping.

"Fa... ther...!" The word barely escaped my mouth, past my open throat, but it wasn't loud enough to hear. "Fa... ther...!" Altair hesitated, but continued. He assumed that a boy who wanted so badly to become a man was calling out to his father, far away. When Altair's blades dug into my sides, I lunged at him and grabbed hold of his robes, bringing him close. With what strength left that I could muster, I opened my eyes and stared into his. "Fa... ther..."

It finally became too much, and I collapsed on the ground, my hand still tightly clinging onto his robes, much as I had when I was a child.

Before I'd fallen into the darkness though, I felt Altair pry my hand from his robe as he fell onto his backside. His fingers were cold and shaking.

My father was afraid of me, and I was afraid of my father.


	10. I Don't Do Weddings

Chapter Nine:

I Don't Do Weddings

_**2012**_

__"C'mon, Sam. It's for the mission."

I glared daggers at Rebecca. "I think Bill just enjoys forcing me to do things I don't like."

"Bill likes doing that for everyone," she replied with a wry smile. "Shaun can barely stand him as it is. They barely associate together."

"Back when he was a kid, Bill was just annoying..." I grumbled. "Now he's an annoying _asshole_."

Rebecca grinned and adjusted her ever-present headphones. "Man, I can't imagine it. That old-timer as a kid? Hard to picture, for sure."

I shrugged helplessly. "Well, what can you do? Being raised by strict parents rubs off."

Rebecca and I were (unfortunately) searching for a dress to rent for Heather Hale's wedding. Her fiancé, Ryan don't-remember-his-last-name, was holding a traditional Assassin wedding, which meant colour schemes. Back in my day, "traditional" weddings meant by your religion, not by your Order—.

_What the hell am I thinking?! I sound as old as Bill!_

I had wondered why Rebecca, of all people, was to accompany me (Bill didn't trust me). But, then again, since she and I were the only girls left on the Animus team, the guys likely decided it was best. Rebecca, however, looked about as clueless as I was when we walked into the dress shop in New York.

"So..." Rebecca coughed nervously. "Now what?"

I rolled my eyes. "This reminds me of when I met Rosa in Venice..."

Rebecca chuckled. "I remember that!"

Rolling up the sleeves of my robe, I marched inside. "It's for the mission, Suna," I murmured. "It's for the mission..."

_**1918**_

__"Look!" Anastasia, or (as I had recently been calling her) "Anya", leaned over the wooden railing as the whales near the coast came up to breathe. I grinned and joined her. "What kind do you think those are?"

"I'm going to guess humpback whales," I said. "Too far away to tell."

She grinned and held onto her hat as the wind and sea-spray threatened to take it. "It's cold out here! It reminds me of home."

"When I was young, my home didn't get snow. Those whales should be heading south by now. It's warmer there."

"You lived in the south?" Anya asked.

I nodded. "Far from Russia. Technically, I lived in Africa." I shrugged. "But enough of that. We need to continue inland for a ways. You'd be safer there."

"I don't want to move from here though..." She sighed and leaned against the railing. "Sara, I miss being home. I miss my family..."

I automatically put a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be all right, Anya. You'll see. They're happy you've escaped, wherever they are."

Anya smiled. "Sara, stop calling me that."

"No," I replied evenly. "Besides, you can't make me, Grand Duchess."

_**1529**_

__"You enjoy reading, don't you?"

Flavia looked up at me, her eyes wide in surprise. I supposed that she hadn't heard my approach. Then again, she had been absorbed in her book. It was only natural.

"S-Si," she mumbled.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you look like you weren't supposed to be reading, but I caught you doing it anyway?"

She blushed crimson. "I-I..." She cleared her throat and tried again. "Madre wanted me to be outside and practice with you and Marcello, but... I'm nearly finished this chapter! I swear!"

I laughed and plucked the book out of her hands. "Ah, 'The Prince'. Machiavelli did well on this, no?"

Flavia leapt up and grabbed for the book, which I deftly kept from her grasp. "Give it back, Sofia!"

"I will return it! I just wanted to look!"

We probably spent all of five minutes running around her room. By the time I had allowed her to pin me to the ground, her bed, once made up beautifully, looked like a tornado had given it a try.

Flavia frowned at the mess that was her bed and snatched the book from my grasp. "Did you come here to act like a child?!"

"No, I came to see why you were." I grinned. "Good job though. At least we won't have to work on your running skills."

Flavia's face turned red almost instantly. She clambered off of me and I readjusted my hood, since it was a complete mess.

"H-How's your burns?" she asked hesitantly.

I shrugged. "They're fine. Just a small scar now, and that will fade as well." I brushed some imaginary dust off of my shoulder and stood up. "Well then, I think I have a good idea of what I want to work on with you and Marcello. Tomorrow, don't shut yourself in your room. Winter's coming, and that's going to be difficult!"

I waved to Flavia as I left her room, but she was already absorbed into her book again. I hurried down the steps and slid down the banister for the last few, landing on my feet in a crouch at the bottom.

"Well, at least I won't have to dust there." Sofia grinned at me, but her hands were on her hips. "Is there any other way to expel all that energy than harass my daughter, beat up my son and slide down my banister?"

I shrugged playfully, "Alas, Sofia, were there any alternatives..."

Shaking her head, the former bookkeeper tossed a wet rag at me, which I caught with ease. "Poco Sofia, why don't you help out a bit?"

I laughed. "Marcello's complaining about the training, isn't he?"

"I don't think I've ever seen his pride so wounded!" Sofia giggled. "That beating you gave him yesterday... It reminded me of one of the many stories you told me of Ezio, of when he was a young man."

"Oh?" I followed Sofia into the kitchen, pushed my hood onto my shoulders and rolled up the sleeves of my shirt before helping her with the dishes. "Which one?"

"How you and he met."

I smiled at the memory. "I don't think I was the one who told you that one, actually."

"Must have been Ezio then." Sofia's eyes became distant. "I suppose you acquainted yourself with Marcello the same way."

I nodded slowly. The anniversary of Ezio's death was approaching. I still needed to visit him. Perhaps I would go with Flavia and Marcello sometime.

"But Ezio knew how to fight," I quipped. "Marcello was on his ass by the time I got there."

It worked; Sofia laughed, a sure sign that the sad memories were gone. "Ezio had an older brother to set him straight!"

"But _he_ was a _terrible_ influence..."

_**2012**_

__"Why did you hide my weapons if I'm supposed to help protect the people here?!" I growled to Walter, who smiled innocently.

"While in your dress, they'd be easy to see." Walter smiled and waved at a few of the guests that passed by us. We had to sit through the ceremony, which annoyed me, but it wasn't unbearable. "Even if strapped to your thigh. Let's face it; the dress that those women made you pick out at that shop ensured that you showed quite a bit of leg."

"Walter, these days, 'quite a bit of leg' doesn't go just above the knee."

"I've noticed. Those miniskirts..." Walter shivered.

I smiled when I saw his hand go to his tie again. He almost looked exactly the same as when I'd first met him back in the eighteenth century. Almost.

"You seem particularly tense today," Walter said, snapping me from my memories. "Something wrong?"

"Besides the fact that I'm in a dress?" I crossed my arms. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"You, Sara Taylor, are a terrible liar." Walter uncrossed my arms and held my hands as he stood in front of me. "What's wrong?"

"I..." I bit my lip. "I-I just don't do weddings..."

Walter raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why's that?"

I took my hands out of his and pulled them close to myself. Maybe such a thing wasn't the best to discuss with him, of all people. But if not him, who? And what if we failed to stop the end of the world?

"Ah, of course." Walter put a hand under my chin and forced me to look up at him. "I think I understand now. How ignorant of me."

"I-It's not your—!"

Walter put up his other hand to silence me. "It was thoughtless of me, though I did think that being here would be fun for us both. A bit of a break from recent events. I'm sorry."

"Don't be—."

This time, to silence me, Walter pressed his lips against mine. Cheater.

"Maybe it'll be our turn soon, right, Sara Taylor?"

I sighed, my hands slipping into his again. "Perhaps. I hope so."

Walter smiled and led me to one of the many pews, which were quickly being filled-up. "Then let's practice!"

"W-What?!"

He grinned and cleared his throat. "I, Walter Hugh II, take thee, Sara Taylor, to be my wedded wife, to love and hold, through sickness, and in health. So I swear with God as my witness, 'til death do us part." Walter kissed me quickly, and when he pulled back, I could see the mischief in his eyes. "Now it doesn't matter what you think, because, in my head, I'm already married to you."

I couldn't stop laughing, but I managed to kiss him back. "I, Suna Ibn-La'Ahad, take thee, Walter Hugh II, to be my wedded husband, to love and hold, through sickness, and in health. So I swear with God as my witness, 'til death do us part."

Grinning, Walter and I sat beside each other in the pew and held hands. The bridesmaids and the groomsman came down the aisle, and when the groom was stationed where he should be, Emma's aunt, Heather, walked down the aisle. I felt a small lump forming in my stomach as I searched the faces of the guests and couldn't see Emma. Was she already fighting off any Templars who were low enough to crash the wedding?

Perhaps twenty minutes into the ceremony, Walter leaned closely to me and whispered, "This is the best part."

My attention went to the priest, who (by the looks of him) was also an Assassin. "Ryan Garth, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Heather's fiancé, Ryan, smiled. "I do," he said.

Walter rested his head on top of mine. "I do," he whispered.

"And do you, Heather Reynolds, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," Heather replied, and they sealed it with a kiss.

I grinned up at Walter. "I do," I murmured, and gently pressed my lips against his.

The priest raised his arms, palms up. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife!"

Cheering erupted around us while the bride and groom raced out of the chapel. Walter and I would have clapped and cheered along with the rest, but we were otherwise occupied.

I don't think they'd mind much.


	11. The Grey

Chapter Ten:

The Grey

_**1225**_

__I woke up the next morning, sore and feeling like I had just drank with my fellow Assassins at one of our New Year's celebrations. My sides hurt as well, which made me wonder if the previous night hadn't just been a dream, and my sides were still shaking from laughter with the Assassins.

"Finally awake, sister?"

I turned on my side and looked at Darim. He looked... tired. Worn out, as if he'd run a long distance while being chased by guards.

I blinked drowsily. "Brother?"

"It's nice to see you awake." Darim put a hand on my face and then playfully ran it through my hair. "You've cut it so short..."

"I had to. It was getting too long, and the Templars..." I paused and put a hand on my neck. Darim didn't miss the gesture.

"It healed last night," he murmured. "Father went to check the traps we set last night for food. Mother has gone to get water. I was charged with babysitting."

I grinned at him. "Role reversal. Only I haven't gotten up solely to stick beeswax into your hair."

Darim took my hand and smiled. "It is good to see you, sister. I wondered if you... if you really were dead, but..."

"I wonder, Darim," I said, "why is it that I am still the same? What could make me so special, so... unlucky...?"

My brother smiled and flicked my forehead. "Because, Suna, our father loves you and would die for you. Let's not question that."

"I don't." I pushed myself into a seated position and gazed at the small embers of the fire. A ways away from it was the Assassin's insignia, emblazoned into the dirt and slightly destroyed by Altair's boot. "I just... I wonder why he didn't recognize me."

"It was very dark, Suna," my brother assured me. "The fire was low."

"Even before that, Darim. Why couldn't he?"

Darim bit his lip, his hesitation showing. "I hate to say this about our father, Suna, but he's an old man. He's in very good shape for his age, but age does not discriminate. What nature gives, we must also return."

"I hate how you always sound so reasonable..."

Darim grinned and playfully tousled (what was left of) my hair. "Too bad it never got me out of trouble when I stuck beeswax into your hair!"

"I caught you then and I can catch you now, little brother."

Darim pulled his hand back, a mischievous smile on his face. "I hope so, sister."

My eyes widened as Darim bolted away and I brought a hand up to my head. My hair was sticking together.

"_DARIM_!" I shouted, scrambling to my feet, ready for the pursuit.

_**1918**_

__"And here we are!" I declared, kicking the door open because of my full arms. "Home sweet home!"

Anya followed me into the house very cautiously. Her hair was tied into a bun and unceremoniously shoved into the pauper hat we'd bought a week earlier. She smiled when she saw the interior. It really was a very nice-looking house on the inside, compared to it's rather rough exterior.

"And it's near the ocean, so you can watch the whales," I said absently as I placed her suitcases on the ground. We'd recently gone looking for new clothes for her, and had to buy two large suitcases because of it.

"I like it," she murmured. "It's... cozy."

"It's yours," I told her. "I have a caretaker assigned to this place, and there's also some money stashed around here."

"Why not just put it in a bank?" Anya asked.

I shrugged. "I have a feeling that the banks will fail sometime soon, so I just stick the money in jars and put them in the walls, under the floorboards, and in the attic. It's very useful." I cleared my throat. "Anyway, there will be someone checking in on you every once-in-a-while, until you're properly settled. There's a number by the telegraph for someone you can reach if you're ever in need of something."

Anya, about to grab he suitcases, froze. "What do you—?"

"Oh yes, be careful of the men. You'll likely draw a lot of attention to yourself. Just remember that, no matter what, _never_ reveal your identity. You don't want those men after you, now do you?"

"Sara—!"

"Your room is up the stairs. The bathrooms work, and there's a radio in your room and in the kitchen—."

"You're leaving me, aren't you?"

I smiled weakly and rubbed the back of my head. "Heh. Unfortunately, yes. My work takes me to America for the time being, and perhaps other places. I haven't much time to spare here, I'm afraid."

"B-But—!" Anya leapt at me and wrapped her arms around me. I stood there, rigid, and a bit afraid to move. "What will I do when you leave? I'll be all alone..."

I'd been with Anya since her family was murdered. She'd never been alone during the months we knew each other, but now I was leaving her. She would be alone for the very first time.

I hugged her back. "Loneliness never fades, but the pain dulls over time. My advice? Try to find another who can help to fill the void, Grand Duchess."

Anya held tightly for another moment before she let me go. "You'll visit though, right?!"

I grinned. "If I don't die!"

"How optimistic..."

_**1747**_

__Exhaustion welled over me, compelling my legs to stop, but I refused to let them. I needed to escape. The British guards were following me deeper into the frontier of America, and their guns had wounded me. The bullets seemed almost worse than they had a few centuries ago, and tore into the body much more viciously.

"There she is!"

I stumbled, but caught myself using a tree. My breath came in ragged gasps as the wounds worsened. I needed to stop and get the bullets out to heal properly, but I didn't have the time. I knew I wasn't about to die, but panic didn't stop itself from running through my spine.

"Ready!"

I tripped and landed in the brush, groaning in pain. I slowly got to my feet and turned around to face the British troops, all lined up perfectly, their guns pointed at me.

"Fire!"

I closed my eyes as the barrage came forward. Not that I'd mind if I died. The pain of being away from the one I loved... I would take death over it any day.

The bullets struck true, most hitting my torso, but one shot through my head. I fell to the ground, my energy quickly slipping from my grasp. One of the British soldiers came and jabbed at me with his bayonet.

"Still alive, sir!" he declared.

The officer scoffed. "The murderer was shot through the head. They don't have much time left. No mercy kill for this one."

"Aye, sir."

They walked away, and I groggily opened my eyes. Someone was peeking at me through the brush, their dark eyes wide with curiosity. My eyes fluttered, and then they lost the battle.

I had hoped it would be the last time I would open my eyes.

_**2012**_

__"The reception is boring," I complained, crossing my arms.

Walter grinned sheepishly. "Well, we need to ensure that we remain for you mission. I wouldn't mind smashing in a head, myself." I gave him a look, wondering how in the world someone like him could ever do such a thing. He caught my look and playfully rolled his eyes. "I told you I was a knight in the King's service, remember? And besides, I held my own against that woman. 'Diana', I think you called her."

"Right..." I scratched my nose and suddenly realized why some people were giving me strange looks. I had almost completely forgotten about the tattoos on my arms that crawled from my wrist almost to my elbow, and they were completely identical. "Hm. Well, I haven't worn anything without sleeves for a while, so I suppose it was natural of me to forget..."

"Forget what?" Walter prompted.

I held up my arms. "My tattoos."

Walter examined them. "Many people enjoy drawing on themselves these days."

I grinned. "Well, I got these because I got very drunk one time. I was shirking my duties as an Assassin for a few years and ended up going to a lot of bars."

"Oh? Why?"

I grinned. "Why do people retire?"

He nodded. "Ah. I see your point."

I noticed someone from the crowd practically gliding towards us. She was walking like she was born a runway, which made me frown almost immediately.

I hoped they weren't coming to us, specifically.

I rolled my eyes. "I can't believe you convinced me to wear this thing, and I'm not even armed!"

"Well, you wore worse back in Egypt, didn't you?" It was the woman—girl, or whatever, and she was smirking at me.

I ignored her comment. "Who the hell are you?"

"You don't recognize me? I'm hurt," the girl said, he smirk widening.

"_Should_ I know you?"

She spins around as if it'll help (which it _doesn't_). "I think you'd be able to recognize your own great-times-a-million niece." I think Walter and I stared at her for a solid minute before Emma tapped us beneath our chins. "You trying to catch bugs?"

_Quick! Think of something clever to say back so you don't feel like a complete moron!_ I grinned and brushed the side of my nose with my thumb. "Well, at least you clean up nice."

"Bite me," Emma growled, crossing her arms. _Score, Suna!_

I rolled my eyes at her nonetheless. "It's nice seeing you again, but Walter and I must be—."

Emma puts up a hand to silence me, and I bristle with anger for a moment before I see Emma's eyes glow faintly. I recognized the gesture. Altair, Darim and Sef all had a similar ability called "Eagle Vision", and so did Ezio. Of course, Flavia and Marcello inherited it later. It appeared that Emma received the gene as well.

"Joel," she grumbled, "I hate you."

"What?!" Joel hisses, almost making me die of shock. _Well, can you blame me?! I didn't see him coming!_

"You get to wear a jacket—therefore your _weapons_! Two Templars just walked in!" Emma seethed, gesturing to two young men who _definitely_ looked out of place. They were nervous and shuffling, tiny beads of perspiration falling from their heads. It wasn't _that_ hot inside.

Joel, previously seated, began to stand, but Emma swiftly stopped him. "This is going to require... finesse." Emma looked at me, the mischievous glint that I knew so well in her eyes. "So, Sofia..."

I frowned at her. "My name is Sam," I grumbled. Emma sighed as if I were impudent, and then gestured once more to the Templars. And then, it clicked. "Oh, hell no!" I exclaimed. "I did it once and I swore I'd never do it again!"

Emma shook her head. "Not _that_ kind of seducing! Although we both walk like models..." Yeah, no thanks to your damn ancestor! "We need to get them alone, and then we'll slit their throats. I'm not going to let them ruin Heather's wedding!"

Walter put a protective hand on my shoulder. I sighed and removed it. "You're lucky you're related to Darim..."

"Yeah, and I'm lucky you love me so much," Emma replied as we walked over to the Templars (while I recited the first tenet in my head, involving Emma).

As we approached, I decided to let Emma do the talking, or I would probably end up screaming, "TEMPLAR!" and strangle them both to death, considering I didn't have my weapons.

Speaking of which, how were we supposed to slit their throats if there weren't any weapons...?

"Hello there. Care to dance?" Emma asked in a disturbingly sweet voice. It fooled the Templars, but I was holding back a gag in my throat. _Kids these days..._

I took the hand of one of the Templars, a blonde man with a boyish face. That time, I recited the final tenets in my mind and tried to picture that I was actually dancing with Walter.

"Remind me to never interfere with your descendants!" I hissed to Emma as we passed each other.

Emma promptly ignored me. "Come on..." she goaded. "Let's go somewhere else."

She led the Templar away, so I did the same. We passed Walter and Joel, who looked none too pleased with what we were doing. Casey had even grabbed hold of Walter to stop him from coming after us.

"Geezus. Boys do get jealous," Emma murmured.

I snorted. "No kidding. Your friend is doing a pretty good job," I remarked.

The Templar that Emma is leading suddenly pulls ahead of her, eager to leave the prying eyes of the visitors. We entered the hallway adjacent to the ballroom, which was oddly dark.

"I don't have anything on me. Walter hid them pretty damn well this time!" I whispered, voicing my earlier concerns.

Indeed, once Rebecca and I had returned from "shopping" (I still shiver when I think about it), I had been reluctant to get into the dress and so Walter, Bill, Shaun and Desmond (who had finally gotten his ass out of the Animus) had to hold me down. Walter later stole all of my weapons and hid them, promising to return them once we'd returned from the wedding.

"I have two weapons," Emma replied.

I looked her up and down and saw absolutely nothing. "Where?!"

Emma smirked. "My shoes."

I grinned when I saw her high-heels. "They say heels are deadly."

We finally entered a room far away from the guests. The Templar holding my hand shut the door behind us.

"Okay, so how do you want to do this?" Emma asked, her voice purring seductively.

Her Templar immediately removed his dress coat as she kicked one of her heels towards me. As the Templar I had guided leaned in close, I caught the high-heel in mid-air and hit him over the head with it. He stumbled backwards, confused, and then I rammed the heel straight into his heart. He opened his mouth in a wordless scream, and then I removed the heel from his chest and aimed for his throat. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Emma finished with her Templar, so I tossed the high-heel back. "I wouldn't wash those off in holy water," I remark.

"I can come up with a lie," Emma said as she rolled her eyes. I nodded curtly and opened the door to leave. "Sam!"

I stopped when she called me, and then sighed. "Why call me Sam when you know who I really am?" I asked.

Emma shrugged. "Suna just seems... I don't know, dated?" she offered. I wasted no time in wrapping my hands around her throat. "Easy!"

"Take it back!" I growled. _My _name_?! The name my _father_ gave me, _dated_?!_

__"Okay! I take it back!" I released Emma, frowning as much as I could. She smoothed the wrinkles in her dress and then smirked at me. "At least you weren't dressed like a courtesan, eh?"

"Might as well have been. I've never been more embarrassed!" I snapped, and then marched back to the ballroom.

Emma was back further than I thought, but with the Templar threat neutralized, I took that as our opportunity to leave, so I grabbed Walter's arm, but hesitated at one point.

"Walter, there was a note and a vial that I gave you on the way over..."

Walter reached into his coat pocket and pulled them out. I hurried to Casey and handed her the items, bidding farewell to Emma's friend and boyfriend, and then I grabbed Walter again, and we escaped the reception.

Outside, I breathed a lungful of fresh air. There was just one more thing I wanted to do before we left, so Walter and I stood amongst the crowd for a while and watched the door of the reception.

"What're we waiting for?" Walter asked me after a time.

"That vial I gave to Casey?" He nodded. "It had my blood in it."

Walter's eyes widened. "Why?"

I smiled faintly. "There was something in that iced tea shop where we spoke with Emma... When I told her about my circumstances, and she hers, there was this feeling I got from her. She wondered if she wouldn't be like me, and live like I have." I paused. That small flicker of fear that I'd seen from her... it had been unmistakeable. "And besides, Bill's been hounding me for a sample of my blood forever. I figured if I was going to give it, it had better be to someone I trust."

"So, what are we waiting for?"

I saw Emma, followed by Casey and Joel, walk outside and to the nearest sewer drain. For a minute, she argued with Casey, and eventually won her case. Emma opened the vial and tipped my blood into the drain, and then the vial after it.

"That," I stated. "It was a Leap of Faith."

I could trust Emma, that much I knew. I just hoped she wouldn't put beeswax in my hair if we ever crossed paths again.


	12. Part of the Tribe

Chapter Eleven:

Part of the Tribe

_**2012**_

__Walter and I returned from the wedding in record time, changed out of our fancy clothes and back into our casual ones, and then immediately went to bed. By the time we woke up in the morning, Bill, Shaun, Rebecca and Desmond had returned from their mission in Manhattan.

I approached Bill later, once I was rested (and had received my weapons). "Bill?"

Bill was leaning against one of the power generators, thinking as he usually was. "Samantha," he regarded.

"The mission was a success. No one was hurt, and they didn't even know about the Templars."

"Good." Bill scratched his beard and looked at Desmond, who was in the Animus once more. "We're so close to ending this, Samantha. I can practically feel it."

I crossed my arms. "But would our war with the Templars end?"

Bill shrugged. "Unlikely. There will always be people who simply _cannot_ see eye-to-eye. Much like us, I suppose."

"Yeah, I guess..."

The silence in-between us eventually made me uncomfortable, so I left to go back to Walter, who was still sleeping when I went to tell Bill of our success. But when I returned, I couldn't find him. I scratched my head, wondering where he could've gone off to, when I heard someone moving not far from me. I quietly crept forward and peeked around a corner.

Walter was sitting on a piece of rubble not far away, grinning. "Quite the day, yesterday, huh?"

I nodded and walked over to him. Before I could sit down, he placed his hands firmly around my waist, avoiding the sword at my hip, and then we kissed. Walter began exploring down the length of my neck with his lips, and then his hands rested on the belt that held my sword. His eyes, full of mischief, bored into mine.

"Does this count as a honeymoon?" he asked.

I grinned, grateful that we were hidden from the rest of the Assassins. "Hell yes."

Our lips connected again, but this time Walter was up on his feet, his fingers fumbling for the belts that held my weapons. I had to help him with my hidden blades, but when he started discarding my throwing knives I was busy trying to undo his own belt. His shirt was going to be next—.

"Oh." Walter and I froze instantaneously and slowly turned our heads towards the voice. Shaun, coffee cup (likely filled with tea) in hand, adjusted his glasses. His face was a dark shade of red. "Well, I think I'll just go dunk my brain into a vat of bleach, yeah?"

I hurried for words but found none. Shaun left quickly, not daring to look back.

"Oops," Walter muttered. "My bad."

_I have finally dug myself into a terrible, terrible hole._

_**1529**_

__"Sofia, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Sofia looked up at me from her book and smiled. "Of course, poco Sofia. What is it?"

I sat opposite Sofia in the only other chair in the living room in front of the fire. After an exhausting day, Marcello and Flavia had already gone to bed. Over the past few weeks, they'd both improved immensely, and I had a gift for them if they ever chose to join the Assassins. It was up to them, though.

"Sofia," I started, "I need to leave."

Sofia's smile slowly faded. "Leave? Has something happened?"

"I have been shirking some duties in order to train Marcello and Flavia," I admitted. "I've managed to get away with it, but something important has come up, and I must accompany the Assassins. They're in need of me."

"Va bene," Sofia said, closing her book. "But what about Marcello and Flavia?"

"Tell them the truth, or a lie. Whatever you chose, I am fine with."

"Why not just tell them yourself?"

My brow furrowed. "I... I hate good-byes. They promise nothing but that I will not see anyone again."

Sofia smiled and tapped my head with her book. "Then do not say, 'Good-bye'. Say, 'I will see you soon'. Then you promise that you will not leave us forever, poco Sofia."

I nodded slowly and rubbed the area that Sofia's book had hit. "I think... before I leave... I might visit Ezio."

"Do whatever you wish," Sofia told me. "I think Ezio would have missed your company."

"Si... I think I miss his, as well."

Sofia closed her eyes and slowly reopened them. "We all do."

_**1747**_

__My eyes opened with more effort than I thought I'd need to use. Above me was a ceiling made of wood, and beside me a fire. I tried to place how I managed to get there, but I couldn't remember. It was too fuzzy.

I groaned as I sat up, and pushed the fur blanket that had been draped over me away from myself as I swung my legs over the side of the small cot I'd been lying in. My head started to pound with the minimal effort I'd put in, and I gripped it, willing it to go away.

"Getting up isn't the smartest thing you could do."

I looked to where the voice was. A girl with brown skin, black hair and dark eyes was walking over to me, a bowl of water in her hands. She placed it on the ground and frowned at me.

"You shouldn't even be up yet," she chided. "You should be dead, actually."

_A member of the Iroquois?_ I wondered. "Who are you?"

"Kaniehtí:io," she answered. When I tried to repeat her name, she rolled her eyes at me. "Just call me Ziio."

"Ziio," I agreed.

Ziio sat down on the ground, her back to the fire. "What's your name?"

"I..." I blinked. "Huh. I can't remember..." _Probably because of the wound to my head._

Ziio's frown deepened. "Anuradha."

"Huh?"

"It's what my people have been calling you," she explained. "Kanaka, as well. Anuradha means 'a bright star'. Kanaka means 'gold'."

"Oh."

Ziio grabbed a bracer off of the ground beside the cot and held it up to me. "This symbol," she said, pointing to an "A" integrated into the design of the bracer. "Do you know this?"

I nodded. "Yeah... I think."

"I suppose when you fell and hit your head, you lost a few memories," Ziio deduced.

"Selectively, I suppose," I offered. _I still remember a few things. I can heal... Weapons! I know weapons. I remember being chased by the British..._

"The Clan Mother wants to speak with you," Ziio told me, stealing me from my thoughts. "I will be there with you to translate her words. I was taught your language by the people who use this symbol," Ziio explained, pointing once more to the "A". "When will you be ready to meet her?"

An older woman entered and spoke, immediately catching Ziio's attention. The woman had near-unnoticeable streaks of grey in her hair and walked with a walking stick nearly her own height.

Ziio replied to her quickly and gestured to me. I went out on a limb and decided that they were talking about me.

"The Clan Mother asks why you were running from the British," Ziio translated for me.

I blinked. "W-Well, I..." I cleared my throat. "I revealed my presence to an enemy before I killed him."

Ziio translated it back to the Clan Mother. Her head tilted to the side, and she spoke to Ziio.

"She asks why you killed him," she told me.

"He was my enemy. It's my job," I replied.

Again, Ziio looked to the Clan Mother and spoke. The woman nodded her head, almost in understanding, and spoke a bit more.

Ziio turned to look at me. "Why do you do such a job?"

"Because..." Ziio narrowed her eyes at me, and I rolled mine in return. "Because it's all I know."

The Clan Mother nodded once more. "You have an aura of sadness and death about you," Ziio translated.

"Well, sorry I haven't bathed in a bit, but I just got off the freaking boat from England..." Ziio gave me an incredulous look. "I don't really remember why I left England. When I think about it, my heart hurts."

"Then you have left someone very dear to you behind," Ziio said for the Clan Mother. "Running from such things is no way to heal the wounds it leaves. Time and patience is needed."

"Don't I know it..."

"What are your plans now?" Ziio asked.

I shrugged. "Well, I'm not one to leave without repaying people. If I'm allowed, I'd like to help where I can, since you've sheltered me."

Ziio relayed it to the Clan Mother, who smiled and nodded in response. "The Clan Mother will allow it," Ziio confirmed. "She wonders what we call you?"

"Any one of those two names you have," I said. "They'll be fine until my memory fully returns."

A few seconds later, the Clan Mother extended her hand. I grasped it, and she squeezed it firmly. "The Clan Mother is attempting your people's way of greeting," Ziio explained.

I slowly shook the woman's hand. "It's nice to meet you, Clan Mother. I look forward to working with you."

The Clan Mother smiled and took her hand back. "And I you," Ziio translated. When the Clan Mother left, Ziio looked at me. "By the way, your clothes are heavily damaged. I've been working on an alternative so that you may roam unrestrained while I mend your clothes."

"My weapons?"

"All are intact," Ziio reassured me. "Is there anything you need?"

I sheepishly looked at my surroundings. "Could I explore?"

Ziio grinned and helped me to my feet. "I will give you the tour. Follow me!"


	13. The Fortress

Chapter Twelve:

The Fortress

_**1225**_

__Altair and I sat across from each other from the fire at our make-shift camp. It had already been several days since the fight against the Templar raiders, and we'd reconciled. I would have done the same thing if I were in his position, surely. Maria and Darim had already fallen asleep. They had taken the first watch, and so it was up to Altair and I to watch for them now.

Playfully, Altair jabbed a stick into the fire to move around the logs and create small patterns within the ashes. I smiled and joined him. I was glad to be back in my robes with my wounds healed, but I'd inspected my neck earlier; a thin scar trailed across it. But it was nothing more than a reminder of a memory, and I was glad to leave it as such. My weapons, including my crossbow (which I'd left in Mongolia), were returned to me.

"Suna," Altair said after a time, "I would ask something of you."

My eyes immediately shot up to him. "Yes?" I asked readily.

Altair cocked an eyebrow at that. Was it really so strange that he was my Grandmaster before my father? Not to me. But...

"I need you to ride ahead to Masyaf." I couldn't stop the smile from coming to my face. "Inform Malik of our return, and have Rauf meet us at the gates. I sent a letter ahead, but I have received no reply, and I fear that we will become sidetracked during this journey back home. Can you do this for me?"

I began to nod, and then stopped myself. "What of Maria? And Darim?"

"I have discussed it with them. You would be best to send ahead. The least likely to be stopped." Altair tossed his stick into the fire. "Suna... Pass on our love to Sef, would you?"

I nodded. Sef hadn't been replying to our letters lately. Perhaps this was the reason he was sending me ahead? Then again, Malik hadn't been keeping up with our letters, either...

"I will," I promised. "When do I leave?"

"In the morning, once everyone has roused and bade you a good journey. We will try our best to be there soon."

Once more, I nodded. "Very well. As you say."

_**1748**_

__Ziio showed me around the village that she and her people were based. There were a few longhouses to house all of the villagers, and the walls made of logs opened to the water, where the canoes were for the villagers to fish. They called themselves, "Kanien'kehá:ka", which means, "People of the Flint". Those that they referred to as my "people" called them, "Mohawk". Since I had difficulty pronouncing the former, I settled with the latter.

I stayed with Ziio and the Mohawk longer than I'd first anticipated. I helped them to fish, I was taught how to hunt with the bow and skin the animals I killed, and to respect them. Inside, I already respected them. I knew that, if faced with an enemy, an opponent was worthy of one's respect. The moment a weapon was drawn, respect was to be issued and acknowledged. Ziio also helped me to master running on the trees, and find pathways through the forests.

She stayed with me wherever I went, mostly because I was nearly helpless without her if I wanted to conduct a proper conversation. Though I knew a few words in her language, I was not fluent enough to completely understand, and learning proved difficult. Ziio even created a lighter version of my robes to aid in my manoeuvrability and stealth, and adjusted the hidden blades on my wrists. Where once their bracers were of a thick steel, it had been thinned, and fur had been placed overtop to avoid them from glinting in the sunlight. The upper robes remained white with a beaked hood, but as they got lower, darker furs were evident, and I was wearing tight-high moccasins rather than soft leather boots. The red sash that had been around my waist remained, and as did my belt, so I could place my weapons where they usually went, but now I had room for a quiver and a bow.

Ziio and I were the ones that the Mohawk sent into Concord to purchase supplies because we spoke English, and I noticed the incredible difference in the way the people there treated me as opposed to Ziio. They would first take in my outfit, but then they'd offer their services in the most friendly manner possible. Ziio had to grab their attention, and even then they were completely disinterested in her until she presented her money and declared what she wished to buy.

It was after one of these excursions to Concord that Ziio and I returned to the Mohawks to deliver the purchased supplies, and then we were sent off once more to a place called, "Davenport Homestead". I'd never heard of it before, and even though it was just a few miles away from the village, Ziio and I had never ventured there together. Ziio, however, had learned her English from a man who had frequented it, though she was certain he didn't own the land. I decided to only bring my shortblade, my bow and arrows (that the Mohawk forged for me), and my hidden blades. Ziio decided only on a hunting knife, but I wasn't sure what we'd encounter, so I brought the things I thought I'd need most.

As soon as we crossed into the lands that were part of the Homestead, the mountains on either side of us spread out. We could follow the mountains to the right down a trail to the main road, but I saw a fallen tree and some birds at its end.

"Follow me!" I said as I began to sprint towards it.

"Kanaka! What are you doing?!" Ziio exclaimed.

I shot a grin back at her. "Trust me!"

I leapt off of the fallen log and plunged downward, coming to a comfortable stop inside a large pile of leaves. I crawled out and dusted myself off, and then looked up at the cliff and beckoned for Ziio.

"Come on!" I yelled up the ridge.

Ziio glanced downwards, backed off, and then leapt off of the log just as I had. When she scrambled out of the leaves, she grinned wildly at me.

"Lovely, isn't it?" I said.

She nodded. "Amazing... What possessed you to do such a thing in the first place?"

I shrugged. "It felt... natural."

Ziio and I used the trees to travel through the Homestead's land. It all remained untouched as of yet.

"What are we to do here again?" I asked Ziio as we stopped in front of the manor house.

Ziio shrugged. "The Clan Mother said we were to give this to the man who calls himself, 'Achilles'." She showed me a package wrapped in brown paper, secured with string. "I do not know why."

I frowned. "Why don't you just refer to her as 'mother'? She's your mother, after all!"

"The Clan Mother is the mother of the clan. One day, that might be my position. Until then, I will refer to her with the respect our people gives her."

I shrugged. "Very well. I won't interfere with your traditions."

I was the one to approach and knock on the door. We waited only a few minutes before a man in a long white coat and a red belt opened the door. He regarded us both with curiosity.

"We are here with a package for Achilles," Ziio explained, showing him the package.

He glanced at it and then opened the door wide. "Please," he said, "come in. Achilles is in the study at the moment, but I will fetch him."

Once we were inside, the man shut the door and hurried to a room at the far end of the hall. A narrow staircase at the right of the hallway led to the second level, and the house was very well-decorated.

"Well, at least he didn't shut the door in our faces at the mere sight of us," I remarked.

Ziio chuckled. "A welcome change."

After a few more minutes passed, the man came out of the far room and strode towards us.

"Achilles is currently in the middle of something, but he's asked that you come to him," he explained. "If you'll follow me, ladies?"

While we followed him, Ziio grinned and giggled. "That's the first time I've ever been referred to as a 'lady'."

I smiled back. "I _know_! You're anything _but_!"

Ziio punched my shoulder, and we continued on. The man we assumed to be "Achilles" was sitting in a chair just opposite a stuffed eagle. Ziio stiffened slightly at the sight of it. She personally disliked keeping such trophies.

Achilles was of average height for a man, and the robes he wore were a tanned colour, as opposed to the white that the man leading us was wearing. He had black skin, brown eyes, and his black hair was cropped back onto his head. In his arms, Achilles held a small baby boy in his arms.

"I apologize for asking you to come to me," Achilles offered as he tore his gaze from the baby. "My son was just born a few days ago. I don't want to move him much. My wife has not told me how to properly handle a baby, and she has gone into town to retrieve supplies for a small party celebrating his birth." He grinned and shook his head. "That stubborn woman should be resting..."

"We bring you a package," I told him as Ziio placed it on his desk. "We are right in assuming that you are Achilles?"

"Achilles Davenport," he affirmed. "I'd offer you a hand, but..."

We stood there in an awkward silence for a few seconds before I couldn't resist the urge to ask. "May... May I hold him?"

Achilles looked from his boy to me. "Have you any experience in handling babies?"

I nodded. "I had brothers. Younger than I. Many relatives as well."

He shrugged and allowed me to hold the baby, who was threatening to cry. "I am sorry to hand him over as he is about to wail."

"You just need to know a few tricks," I assured him. After a few minutes, the baby was sleeping again. "What's his name?"

"Connor," Achilles answered. "His name is Connor."

I nodded. "Hello then, Connor. It's lovely to meet you."

"And your names?" Achilles asked.

Ziio held out her hand. "Kaniehtí:io. Just call me Ziio."

"Thank-you, because I feared the attempt to pronounce it." Achilles shook her hand and then looked to me.

"Oh, they call me Kanaka," I told him.

"Were you born amongst the Mohawk?" Achilles inquired.

I shook my head. "No. I just... suffered some memory loss."

"Amnesia? Ah, a terrible thing."

"You never spoke of brothers before," Ziio said.

I blinked. "Hm. I haven't. It just came out."

The man who'd led us to Achilles finally decided to speak up: "My name is John Smith. A pleasure."

"You as well." I handed Connor back to his father. "I suppose we should leave now. The package is delivered, and the Clan Mother will be happy to hear it."

Achilles grinned. "Thank-you. Both of you."

"Not a problem," Ziio assured him. "Good night."

John led us back to the front door. He had just reached for the door handle when it turned and opened. A man wearing a hood like mine entered, and it was soaking wet. _Rain,_ I thought dryly.

He threw back his hood just as John offered to take his coat, which was similar to the one that John himself was wearing. Running a hand through jet-black hair, the man rubbed his face and groaned.

"It just started _pouring_," he complained. "A storm, I think."

Ziio looked at me. "I suppose we can't leave quite yet, then. It's almost impossible to reach the village in these conditions."

"We can stay at the stables outside," I told her. "That would suffice for now."

The man with black hair and chocolate-coloured eyes stared at me for a moment, and as Ziio and I were leaving through the door, he grabbed my arm. I tensed and glared at him.

"... Sara?" he asked.

I frowned. "You must be mistaken." I yanked my arm from his grasp and followed after Ziio, burying the encounter forever.

_**1225**_

__After bidding farewell to my father, mother and brother, I journeyed ahead to let the Assassins know of Altair's return. Altair told me this before he left: "There is a reason why every one of us is put on this earth. Whether it be a small part we play, or a large one. Regardless of what has happened, and what will happen, know that destiny will always drive you. Your skill will fuel you. And your heart will lead you to the destination." Altair had wise words, but I wished he was better with directions. I had to purchase a map of the Levant to reach Masyaf.

It took several long months at a fast pace to reach Masyaf, but when it came within sight I felt my spirits lift. Eight years away from it. How much had changed?

That question was answered when I left my horse to a stable boy and entered Masyaf. The loud bustle had been reduced to a quiet whisper, the Masyaf guards watched me with dark expressions on their faces, and... Where were the Assassins?

I took my time walking up the hill. The villagers would see me and shrink away or change direction. I didn't understand, and watched with morbid curiosity. When I reached the keep, I heard no swords clashing. I could hear no talk. All was silent, and the portcullis was closed tight.

"Open this!" I demanded to a guard.

He glowered at me. "On whose authority?"

"Altair Ibn-La'Ahad, the Grandmaster!" I snapped. "Open it!"

The guard growled, but called for the portcullis to rise. I glared at the guard as I entered. How could he not show the proper respect to an Assassin? To Altair's name?

I ran up to the Grandmaster's desk, where Malik would surely be waiting. Instead, I found Abbas staring out the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Abbas...!" I approached him. "Where is Malik?"

Abbas gave me a smile from under his thick black beard, now tinged with grey. "Malik? So you did not receive the news?"

"What news?!" I pressed.

Abbas shrugged his shoulders. "Is that any way to speak to your Grandmaster, Suna Ibn-La'Ahad?"

"What—?!"

Something slammed on top of my head. The last thing I saw was Abbas' boots as he ignored my fallen form on the floor and continued to stare out the window.

And then everything was dark.


	14. Two Prisoners

Chapter Thirteen:

Two Prisoners

_**2012**_

"I need to go after him!" I exclaimed, gathering my weapons from off the ground. "Goddammit, why the hell does he choose _then_ to want to talk?!"

Walter laughed and retrieved his belt—pathetically, the only thing I'd managed to get off of his being. "It's not like Shaun's going to tell anyone what we were about to do. Gentleman's code."

"Just because you two are English doesn't mean you have a code!" I snapped. Once my weapons were secured, I groaned. "Oh God! What the hell were we doing?! In the _Grand_ _Temple_?! Juno was probably floating around—old hag!—looking for—!"

"Calm down," Walter said, removing my hood from my head. "What's the worst that the old man could do, anyway?"

I rolled my eyes. "_Please_, just let me go stop him!"

He frowned, but shrugged his shoulders. "Very well. If you feel that badly about it."

"I-It's not that I feel _bad_ about it! I just—!"

"I know, Sara. I know." Walter spun me around and gave me a gentle push towards where Shaun had been. "Go."

I nodded and bolted out of the room. I carefully made my way through the Grand Temple and saw Shaun, and Bill was about to intercept his path. I swore a few hundred times as I realized that Shaun couldn't get away from Bill. I couldn't get to Shaun in time!

"So?" Bill asked. "What was Sam and her idiot boyfriend doing?"

_Idiot... boyfriend...?_ I made a mental note to kick Bill where it'd hurt the next time I got the chance.

Shaun adjusted his glasses after taking a sip of his coffee-cup-tea. "They were exploring," he answered vaguely.

I turned red as I realized that his words were explaining a lot, but Bill (being the old man that he was) frowned. "The Temple is too dangerous to be exploring yet. Next time you see them, tell them to be more careful."

_Yeah, you have no idea how dangerous exploring _that_ "Temple" was_... I immediately shook my head and cleared the thought from it. _Dammit! This generation's dirty minds...!_

_** 1748**_

"No, wait!"

The man grabbed my arm again. I frowned at him, and he took his sweet time examining me. _We're going to be soaked at this rate..._ I thought glumly.

"It's me!" he exclaimed. "It's James! Don't you remember me?! James Hugh!"

I shook my head as a familiarity assaulted it. "No. I don't know you."

Ziio grabbed us both by our hoods and forcefully dragged us into the stables with John Smith watching us as if we were all completely mental. Once we had a roof over our heads, James decided to grab both of my arms.

"Come _on_, Sara! It's _me_! James Hugh!" he insisted. "My brother—!"

I kicked his shin and hurried to the back of the stables. "Leave me be!"

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!" James screamed.

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to narrow my eyes at the young man. "Lower your voice, sir. What is it you want with me?! I've nothing to offer, so you can stop pretending that you know me!"

Frowning, Ziio sighed. "Kanaka, what if he _does_ know you? You said yourself that your memory is lost to you."

"Most of it," I corrected her. "I can still remember certain things."

"You...?" James straightened. "How?! I got reports in England that you were dead! I can't even tell my brother about them!"

"Well, I'm certain your brother would forgive you. Now please, we're going to wait out the storm in order to get back to the village. Get inside before you catch—!"

"_Walter is still in love with you_,_ goddammit_!" I stared at the man in front of me. Chocolate eyes, black hair, tan skin... But _he_ had an unruly stubble that he _never_ took care of. "My brother is torn apart because of you! And you just _left_?! You hid in America?!"

"I-I..." I couldn't tear my eyes away from James. "Who...?"

And then it hit me with about as much force as a battering ram. I pressed my back against the wall of the stables and slid down, staring at my feet the entire way. I could remember Walter. Vague things, but... My heart hurt—no, _ached_—when I pictured him. His smile, the way his eyes lit up...

"Kanaka?" Ziio crouched in front of me and wiped a tear away that had somehow escaped me. "Kanaka?" she repeated.

I almost jumped when I heard a tap against the wood of the stables. Achilles stood there, a somehow-gentle frown on his face. "Perhaps it would be best if this conversation was brought inside before you catch hypothermia?"

Ziio grabbed my arm and hefted me to my feet. We stumbled and slipped through the pouring rain, but we eventually made it back into the house. I felt chilled to the bone, and regretted not wearing something warmer. Achilles handed his cloak to John (with James following suite) and led Ziio, James and I into the dining room, where a fire was roaring in the fireplace. The dark-skinned man gestured to some chairs, and Ziio and I sat beside each other, James taking a seat beside Achilles.

"Now, James, what was so important that you had to follow a young woman outside?" Achilles asked. I wondered briefly where Connor was, but I could hear movement upstairs. His wife was probably home.

James gestured to me with his chin. "She is my brother's lover. An Assassin, like us."

"I do not deny her obvious Assassin affiliations," Achilles replied as Ziio and I shared "looks". I was like them? Then again, once I studied Achilles more, I could see the beak on his hood, and the blades strapped to his wrists... "What I wonder is why you would confront her so. Is it not between your brother and she?"

"My brother believes that she is dead!" James insisted. "I did too!"

"Did you not think that, perhaps, she is not this person?"

"No," I murmured, cutting off James' reply. "I... I think I am."

Achilles locked eyes with me. "And what makes you think that?"

"I..." I stared at the floor. "I... remember... very little."

"I brought Kanaka to my village months ago," Ziio explained for the men. "She should have died from her wounds, but she survived. As a result, she suffered some memory loss. The Clan Mother attempted a ritual to regain her memories, but it proved futile. She has remained with us since."

"A wound through the head," I explained. "But I... I remember a bit." I concentrated, despite the fact that my head and heart were throbbing with the memories. "Walter... He was very kind to me. Sweet. Endearing. And a complete and utter moron."

Ziio giggled. "Sounds like the kind of man you would attract."

James frowned, but I continued, ignoring the two. "I think... I think I remember why I left England behind..." Without thinking about my actions, I flicked my wrist, unleashing my hidden blade, and drew it across my palm before anyone could stop me. I clenched my fist and kept my hand from Achilles, who attempted to staunch the bleeding. I was glad that I hadn't forgotten about my ability to heal.

Ziio grabbed my hand and the cloth that Achilles was about to use and covered my hand with it forcefully. She wiped the blood away to take a good look at the wound—or, where there should have been one.

"The shot through the head I received would easily explain my memory loss," I muttered. "But I am glad that I did not forget about this."

Achilles sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. The man was grinning. "Well, I didn't think that such legends were true before, but it seems that your Assassin roots are not the only thing I cannot deny... Shadow-Step."

_**1225**_

My eyes fluttered open at the sound of a loud squeaking noise, but they closed again. When I once more opened my eyes, I was staring at the dank floor of the dungeon, my head lolling onto my chest. My shoulders were aching for some reason.

"Are you finally awake, Suna?" _Malik?_ I looked in the direction of the iron door, but saw no one. "No, over here."

I saw Malik grasping the bars in-between our cells. Except for a few make-shift rags, the older man was basically naked. A scraggly beard had begun to take shape on his face, and his hair had grown longer than he'd have liked, I was sure.

"... Malik...?" I muttered. "What...?"

"Thank God, Suna!" Malik grinned. "You're all right! I was worried there for a moment!"

"It will take far more than that to defeat me." I raised my head and saw that my hands were in cuffs connected to the wall. _So these are why my shoulders hurt..._

"Where is Altair?" Malik asked. "I pray that Abbas did not get him, as well!"

I shook my head. "No. Altair sent me ahead to tell you to prepare for his arrival. He said that he might get side-tracked along the way..." I suddenly glared at Malik. "What happened?! What 'news' did Abbas speak of?!"

"Calm yourself, Suna," Malik chided gently. "Be calm, and I shall tell you."

My shoulders slumped, but I took a deep breath and then fixed my eyes back on Malik. "What happened?" I repeated.

Malik looked crestfallen. He took his time in compiling an explanation. "A coup d'état. Abbas, Swami... many more supporters. I was thrown in here, and Abbas has assumed the title of 'Grandmaster'. It... It was my own fault. I am not the leader that Altair is. They were conspiring against me for the longest time, and I didn't realize it until it was far too late." Malik shook his head. "Abbas has been lording over the village and the Assassins for weeks. Months, probably. I have lost track of the time. But I know that I can no longer hear the villagers from here. They have fallen silent, or they whisper, but no one dares go against Abbas."

"And you have been a prisoner in here since then," I concluded. "This is why you couldn't tell Altair. This is the reason why your letters stopped." Malik nodded. I felt a tightening in my gut as I asked the question, "What about Sef?"

Malik hung his head in shame. "Suna... In order to get me into prison... T-They planted the dagger in my room, and Sef..."

Tears brimmed at my eyes. I started screaming, but it was as if the world around me had gone silent. I couldn't hear, could barely recognize what I was seeing... I could remember men coming in and hitting me, ordering me to be silent. But everything already _felt_ silent. So I kicked at them with my legs, bit at them with my teeth; I did everything to try and escape to find my brother. Sef just _couldn't_ be dead. My little brother _couldn't_. _Be_. _Dead_!

And then the guards used a spear to knock me out, and my dreams were flooded with the face of my brother...

Dead.

_**2012**_

"Samantha!" Bill called.

It had been a few days after Walter's and my misadventure. I groaned and stomped over to the old man. Desmond had rarely left the Animus, and I really missed talking to the guy, but he had become almost as focused as Bill on finding the key to the gigantic bridge that they'd been working on.

"What?" I asked, crossing my arms at Desmond's father.

Bill frowned at me. "I have an e-mail for you. It's on my account, so please delete it once you're done."

I accessed his e-mail (something he wasn't particularly happy about) and checked the message. It was cryptic, but the only thing that was clear was to meet this person in a train yard near New York.

"I'm going," I announced. "Keep Walter here. I'll need to check this out..."

I started out of the temple. "Be careful, kiddo!" Rebecca called after me.

I waved back at her. "I will!" I promised. "Just don't let Walter worry, all right?"

"You got it!"


	15. This is Our War

Chapter Fourteen:

This is Our War

_**1226**_

The jailor entered the dungeon and opened Malik's cell, shoving a tray of food toward him. It consisted of a slice of bread and a cup of water. The jailor only came by every three days. Sometimes he would forget.

"Eat," the man commanded, before he closed Malik's cell door and left the dungeon.

Malik stared at his meagre plate of food and sighed. At least, I assumed he was looking at it. My eyes were shut tight as I attempted to ignore the world around me. So far, such an attempt was proving difficult. Borderline futile. But it proved to be more comforting than accepting what I'd been hearing as reality.

Abbas Sofian was the Grandmaster of the Levant.

Malik was imprisoned following the latter's coup.

And Sef... my brother... _murdered_ by the former Apprentice named Swami...

While Altair, Maria, Darim and I had been oblivious to the small signals being sent, Abbas manipulated the weak-minded and weak-willed of our Order and instilled fear within the populace. They murdered, plotted and pillaged. No one was left unaffected or untouched by Abbas.

"Suna, you should eat something." I heard Malik pushing his tray of food towards the bars in-between our cells. "You haven't in a while."

"Neither have you," I countered silently. "I am not hungry, regardless."

"You, young one, are a liar."

I shut my mouth and let my head loll against my chest. I knew the date. A new year had finally arrived, many weeks after I had arrived in Masyaf. And yet there were no sounds of celebrations in the village. It remained silent, as was the norm now. Inside the castle were sounds of merriment as the old men that gathered themselves around Abbas ate and drank their fill, and more from the sounds of it. I could hear footsteps approaching, but they were not the jailor's. The footfalls were too soft.

For one fleeting moment, I thought Altair had come. My heart soared at the prospect of my father arriving, ready with his silver blade to cripple Abbas for his treachery, but when I looked up I saw the face of Abbas. The disappointment crept into my heart, and I was powerless to stop it.

"Suna," the traitor regarded plainly. "Do you know what day it is?"

I kept my gaze firmly on Abbas' eyes. I would not waver in front of him. If not for my sake, for Malik's.

"It is the beginning of the new year," Abbas explained, ignoring my glare. "And wouldn't you know it? Altair hasn't returned."

"And what business is that of yours, Abbas?!" Malik snapped. "When he returns—and he _will_—you will know of it, because his blade will be buried into your neck!"

Abbas glared at him. "A fine way to speak to your Grandmaster, Al-Sayf! I was speaking to Altair's _daughter_. So if you wouldn't mind, silence your tongue before I cut it out!" Abbas returned his gaze to me. "What have you to say about how Malik disregards his superiors?"

I managed to spin my wrists enough to show him both of my middle fingers. "Go. To. Hell."

Abbas waved two men forward as he unlocked the door to my cell. "You heard her. Have fun, Apprentices."

Chained to a wall, weapon-less, and weary from the recent events, I had no way to fight back as their fists and feet tenderized my flesh. But I wouldn't give the satisfaction of letting them see my pain. I would die before that.

"And one more thing, Suna..." Abbas shut the door behind the two Apprentices, who finally had their fill of beating me. "Have a good sleep. In the morning, you become an example."

I laughed hoarsely. "I look forward to it, Abbas. For if you need an example to ascertain your dominance, then you know that the people can rise up and cast you from the throne of blood and deceit that you sit upon."

Abbas locked my cell and pocketed the key. "Do you know, Suna, that when your brother died, I had Swami tell him that it was your father who ordered it?"

My blood froze. _No.. Abbas wouldn't. Was he really...? Could he really sink so low...?_

"Your precious _brother_ died believing that his _father_ had ordered his execution. Now, I wonder what your beloved nieces and sister-in-law think of this...?"

Abbas left us there, and I waited until the heavy wooden door closed behind him to let out my grief. _I am sorry, Sef. Tears are the only thing I can offer your soul for now. Just please... be patient with me. I will ensure that you have _not_ died in vain!_

_**2012**_

As far as I could tell when I arrived, the train yard was abandoned. But after some quick recon, I could see evidence of someone having been there for the last few hours. They were wearing dark clothing and a hood to obscure their face, and they were waiting very impatiently. I could see a gun at their hip and a hunting knife at their side.

I dropped down from a few beams and landed on a train car beside them. They jumped when they heard me. I stood up and placed my hands on my hips.

"Do you have such an aversion to people that you would have me meet you in a desolate area rather than a public place?" I asked him. "At least in public we could _pretend_ to be more civil."

He stared at me for a time before he flipped his hood off, and I nearly fell off the train car, especially since he was pointing the gun at me.

"R-Ryan?!" I exclaimed.

He smiled half-heartedly. "Hey, sis."

"Ryan!" It was obvious that I'd surprised him when I wrapped my arms around him, because he was completely and utterly rigid. "God, I missed you! How're you? How's Ty? What in the hell are you even doing here?!"

Ryan firmly placed his hands on my arms and pushed me off of him. "Ty's fine, Sam," he said quietly. "I'm here on orders."

"Orders?" I repeated.

"Yeah," he replied, nodding. "From your former Order."

I crossed my arms, my brow furrowing naturally as I took Ryan in. "Former? What're you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb! They saved you from that guy in the suit that kidnapped you in the first place! And then they helped you get your memories back, and you went rogue! They told me all about it."

"Ryan, I didn't betray anyone," I told him. "I was kidnapped and I escaped from that place _before_ I got my memories back. I wasn't one of them, ever!"

"They said that you'd deny it..." Ryan put his hand on his gun.

I put my hand firmly on top of Ryan's to stop him from drawing it. "Ryan, I wouldn't lie to you! Sure, I'd not tell you _everything_, but it's not lying. I just don't want you to get involved—!"

"I'm already involved, Sam." Ryan towered over me, and instead went for his knife. "And I've got to keep Ty safe."

"What the hell—?!"

"This Order you're with now... They've got Ty. Bet you didn't know that. So I joined up with your former Order to get him back. And they... they told me that you were part of the kidnapping..."

"Bullshit!" I snapped. "I wouldn't ever! The Assassins would never harm an innocent! You're being played, Ryan! Please, just give me some time to prove it to you!" I grabbed his hands. "I'm begging you! Please, don't do anything rash! Just... meet me here tomorrow! I'll find proof! The guys who told you all this crap are using you! _Please_!"

Ryan hesitated. I knew that, to him, it didn't matter that I had lived with him; Tyler was his blood. I wasn't. But Ryan always treated me like a sister, so I hoped to have some pull with him.

"Tomorrow," Ryan muttered. "But be quick about it."

"Don't worry, Ryan; I won't let you down."

_**1226**_

It was high noon when the jailor and another Assassin entered my cell and dragged me out of it. What a way to properly begin the new year... I didn't have the strength to fight against them, and my curiosity won me over as I wondered what Abbas would have in store for me.

The men dragged me all the way to the smaller, less travelled marketplace that Altair had told me he'd long ago found a traitor singing praises of Robert de Sable. Shackles and irons adorned the mountain behind it, but that was not where I was "escorted". The men stopped in front of Abbas, who glared at me down his nose. The men forced me on my knees, and that was when Abbas decided to regard the gathering crowd of villagers. I recognized most of them, but some were new to me. They also seemed less numerous than before, when I'd last lived in Masyaf.

_Some have fled this tyranny..._ I realized. _How ironic that they had come here in the first place to keep safe._

"Some of you may recognize this so-called _Assassin_," Abbas began, "and some of you may not have even known her. But this _filth_ is the child of the 'great' Altair Ibn-La'Ahad, _Master_ _Assassin_. Suna Ibn-La'Ahad is also a Master Assassin, and made so before she even turned twenty. She is the first full-fledged female Assassin of the Levant... and the last."

I frowned, and glared at Abbas. I noticed a small child staring at me, put I paid her no mind. I likely looked like a mess.

"She is now forty years of age, and has returned from the fight with Genghis Khan... _alone_."

A dull murmur ran through the crowd. I wondered where Abbas was going with his needless speech.

"So tell us, Suna Ibn-La'Ahad... Where is your father, mother and brother?"

I smirked at him. "But I told you earlier this morning Abbas; surely your memory could not be so terrible? They are coming. And when they arrive, they'll throw you off the cliffs for what you've done to Sef!"

Abbas barked in laughter. "What _I've_ done?! You speak of frail memories, and yet you have some of your own! Malik Al-Sayf _murdered_ your brother less than a year ago! It is why he is in prison! And your crimes force you to rot in there, with your brother's killer!"

"My crimes!" I scoffed at him. "What have I ever done to earn your ire, Abbas?! Your family was not dishonoured when your father took his own life! He _regained_ his honour! Certainly, that would be enough! But rather than accept such a thing, you think that your father left! Why?! To what end?! And you wonder why Altair cannot consider you a friend, and did not leave Masyaf in your hands from the very beginning—!"

Abbas slapped me hard across the face to silence me. "_Altair Ibn-La'Ahad is a filthy liar who lays with Templars and sires bastards_! You will not speak to the Grandmaster of the Levant in such a way!"

"You are not the Grandmaster!" I screamed. "People! Altair will return, and he will free you from this! He comes now! It is only a matter of time before you are free of fear again—!"

"Swami!" Abbas called. "Lash her! Do not stop until the sun is down! If you must switch, then so be it! But you will not stop punishing this _insolence_!"

It was going to be a _long_ half day.


	16. My Brothers

Chapter Fifteen:

My Brothers

_**2012**_

__I burst into the Grand Temple and slid down the slope into the main room. No one but Walter really looked up at me, but I couldn't stop at the moment. I needed to confront William.

"Bill!" I yelled as I leapt over the gap. "Did you take Tyler?!"

Bill looked at me, as if he was bored. "Excuse me?"

"Did you take Tyler?!" I repeated. "Answer me, goddammit!"

"No, I didn't. I had your brothers under protection," Bill explained as he planted his hands on his hips. "Unfortunately, the Assassins I had assigned to them were killed several weeks ago."

"_Weeks_?!" I exploded. "Ryan met me today, completely convinced that the Assassins have Ty!"

"Rest assured, we don't."

Desmond walked up from behind his father. I hadn't talked to him in a long while, now that I thought about it. He'd been in the Animus for prolonged amounts of time to look for the key to saving the world. No pressure on him, though.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

Bill rolled his eyes, but only so I could see him. "Nothing that concerns you, I assure you."

"_Sam_ concerns me," Desmond interjected, gesturing to me. "I think it'd be important if you're acting like an ass."

"Sam," Bill said, "_concerns_ us all."

"Yeah, I hate you too," I growled. "Do we know where Ty is?!"

"I think it's safe to assume that he's in the hands of the Templars."

"Then get him out!" I snapped.

Bill frowned at me. "We're heading to Brazil for another power source. What can I do?"

"You're the goddamn _Mentor_! Do _something_!"

He paused, stroking his beard in a way that reminded me of Altair, when he was older and had a longer beard himself. "I'll get a team together. They'll take care of it. You'll need to stay behind and meet with Ryan, however."

"I can do that. Just get Tyler."

Bill nodded curtly, and I took that as my leave. I instantly slipped my hand into Walter's, and he squeezed it reassuringly.

"It'll be fine," he said. "It'll all be fine."

I really, _really_ hoped that Walter would be right.

_**1226**_

__I didn't count the days as they passed. I had soon fallen into a rhythm that was near impossible to escape, so my perception of time was difficult to grasp. Of course, I knew when it was a new day, and its following night. I was outside for twelve hours at a time, and Swami switched with several Assassins during the day to give me my "punishment" for insubordination.

It was on this particular day that there was a slight break in the cycle. While my wounds were quick to heal, they never healed fully, and I remained in my bloodstained Assassin robes, so it wasn't as if they could properly assess the damage. On this day though, Abbas met with me again. I was tired, in pain, and would have died long ago had it not been for Altair's Apple.

Abbas threw my hood from my face and grabbed a handful of my long hair. It had grown since I last saw Altair. "So, now what do you have to say to your Grandmaster?"

I adjusted my hands in the shackles against the mountain before the smaller market and showed him both of my middle fingers. "See for yourself, you son of a whore!"

Abbas was quick to react and slapped me hard across the face. My head jerked to the right as pain flared in my left cheek, but I slowly turned to look at him again. He was shaking in rage.

"Think carefully, Suna; I can reach beyond horizons. My power as Grandmaster is absolute. What could I do to you if you keep denying me? I could send you to be a slave in Egypt!"

"Then please, do so quickly," I goaded him. "I _long_ to be relieved of your needless prattle!"

Abbas grabbed my chin. "What could Altair have done to inspire such stubbornness...?"

I glared at him. "He empowers the people. Accepts them. You would crush any who oppose you 'neath your boot to silence them. He is a leader. You are a tyrant. I would follow Altair to Hell and back. You? I would rather _be_ in Hell."

He made a noise with his tongue and rubbed his beard. "Still, such a waste. You have aged well, Suna. Had you not been _his_ child, I might have taken you for a wife."

"And if you _dared_, I would cut off your balls and feed them to the wolves!"

"Ah, but there is Maria's influence." Abbas released me roughly. "Perhaps another two months at the lash will make you more willing to accept me as Grandmaster."

"I would rather die!" I spat. "You're no better than the Templars!"

Abbas struck me again. "Don't compare me to them!" he thundered. "I am not a Templar! I am an Assassin! I fight for freedom! Not control!"

"Then why do you insist on being the lord of Masyaf?! The people here are free to live for themselves! Not to be crushed by your fist—!"

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Abbas' face was red with anger. A small crowd of villagers had gathered behind him, and he turned to regard them. "All of you, who stand here! Am I not a just Master?!" He waited for their response, which was a collective, hesitant nod. "Am I not a kind and strong Master?!" The same response, though faster. "You see, Suna?! The people have turned their backs on you! What did you ever do for them to gain their loyalty?! _Nothing_! You are a _woman_! You are _not_ an _Assassin_! _You are nothing_!"

I spat at Abbas. He recoiled at the saliva, but it landed on his boot nonetheless. "Then I hope you enjoy rubbing _nothing_ from your boot!"

"Lash her!" he ordered Swami. "Through the night! Do not stop for anything! _She must be punished_!"

_**1748**_

__"That nick-name is nostalgic," I told Achilles. "It's also a very old one."

"Old, indeed," Achilles agreed. "James, you remember that old Assassin legend flitting about, yes?"

James tore his eyes away from my hands, now fully healed. "I-I... Yes."

"What legend?" Ziio asked.

Achilles grinned. "Several hundreds of years ago, there was someone who carried that name. She was Suna Ibn-La'Ahad, the adopted child of the Mentor of the Levant, Altair Ibn-La'Ahad. Legend says that her enemies didn't hear her coming; she was a ghost among Assassins, and one of the best. The people dubbed her 'Shadow-Step', and ever since, the title has been passed down through the ages. Though, I sometimes have my doubts..."

"Doubts are a good thing to have. In this way, our freedom remains."

"Exactly so." Achilles eyed me for a while longer before he waved his hand dismissively. "It's too late to deal with any confrontations, James. Let our guests sleep."

"But Achilles—!"

"James," Achilles said sternly, "if she doesn't remember, then there's no need to pursue the matter. Leave her be."

James' lips pursed, but he stood, bowed stiffly, and left the room. Achilles regarded us, his dark eyes lingering on the hood I wore.

"You're welcome to stay inside the house," he told us. "Your clothes are soaked from the rain, so I'll provide you with alternative clothing and you can hang them to dry."

"I would rather keep my clothes, thank-you," Ziio replied.

"You _will_ be keeping them," Achilles assured her. "I just thought you'd appreciate sleeping in something dry. I have a spare bedroom upstairs that you two can use for the time being. If you wish, of course."

Ziio opened her mouth, ready to refuse the offer, but I bowed in my seat and interrupted her. "Thank-you for your kindness, Achilles."

He nodded and rose from his seat, leaving the room with barely a glance over his shoulder. Ziio glared darkly at me.

"We cannot stay," she growled.

"It's just for the night," I said. "Besides, I don't want you to catch a cold from your clothes."

I could see in her eyes that she was struggling with her reply. Eventually, she sighed. "Very well. Just for the night."

_**1529**_

__"Ezio! About time I found this place!"

Ezio's grave was in Firenze, and it had been a royal pain in the ass to find it. While it had been well-tended and cared for, it was very simple. I had expected just a bit more for the former Mentor of the Italian Assassins.

"Do you know how much time I spent trying to find you?! Even in death, you blend!" I snapped. "Marcello is terrible at it, though. He enjoys fighting far more, and doesn't see the uses in blending with the crowd. I had to hit him over the head with a warhammer once!" I shook my head. "What a stronzo... Flavia catches onto those lessons pretty fast though. Faster than you, even! I've been drilling her through the sword, and she has a real talent for it. Both of your children inherited your fighting skills, Ezio. And Flavia can really throw a book _far_ when she's angry! You have a very wild family!"

I laughed. Marcello and Flavia knew enough to protect themselves and their mother now. That was why I had come to visit Ezio. Alone, rather than with them, because it was time to move on. If the siblings Auditore wanted to do anything with the skills I'd given them, it would be up to them.

"They miss you, Ezio," I murmured. "We all do. Wherever you are, just make sure you do all you can to protect them from the Templars."

And now, it was time to leave.

_**2012**_

__I faced Ryan awkwardly. My hand was gripped tightly around the cell phone that Rebecca had loaned me for the incoming call. Bill said that the team sent to retrieve Ty would call it and put him on, and then I could give it to Ryan. Ty would explain everything, and then they'd be reunited. Simple as that.

Walter stayed behind. He knew how difficult this was, and I guess he probably felt like he shouldn't make it any more confusing than the situation already was. Ryan ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"When's the call coming in?" he asked.

"Any time now," I replied. "Definitely."

A few more tense minutes passed. I used those minutes to reflect on my times with Ryan and Tyler. They had been my brothers for two long years, and reminded me so much of Darim and Sef... I wanted this to work. I really did.

A thud came from not far away. Ryan and I immediately looked to where it came from. We had to squint to see it properly, but my gut churned, tightening into an inescapable knot when I saw it.

Tyler's body, hanging by his neck from a pipe on a building.

I was so stunned, so numb from the sight. My little brother... I had no words to express it. My feelings were mixed and mashed, and no real one came up to the surface.

"YOU DID THIS!" Ryan hollered. "YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED MY BROTHER!"

Ryan lunged towards me, his knife raised high above his head, his eyes full of bloodlust. For the longest time, I didn't move an inch.

And then, I reacted.


	17. The Blame

Chapter Sixteen:

The Blame

_**2012**_

It had occurred to me a while before facing Ryan just how easy it was to kill. When I had gone to Vegas to rescue Jeremy, I realized it, but it didn't bother me. Mainly, because it was my enemies that I was killing at the time.

Taking a life meant that I took away everything that the person did in their lives, and it was all for nothing. The people they'd built relationships with, the adventures they'd been on, the places they'd seen... It became all for nothing as soon as my blade pierced their neck.

And I wasn't even aware that I was cradling Ryan's body until I realized that. I stared down at him in utter horror, completely appalled at what I had done, and he showed me his contempt for me in his eyes.

"I..." I couldn't bring the words to my mouth.

Ryan's hand clamped on the spot my hidden blade had pierced in his neck. "Fucking..." He coughed blood, and it bubbled from his wound. "Fucking murderer...!"

"No, Ryan—!" I reached for him, but he found the strength to swat my hand away. I realized that my hidden blade was still activated and hastily deactivated it.

"Don't touch me... _freak_!"

I froze, the tears brimming at my eyes. _Just let me explain. Just let me tell you that you're wrong!_

"I hope... you rot... in Hell!"

"Ryan—!"

I had never once in my life been so terrified of feeling the life leave the body of the person I'd just hurt. I had grown up around violence and death. I had lived through it, dealt it to my enemies, and looked back with a sick smile on my face because they were my enemies, and at the end of the day, I was the one still breathing.

Ryan died in my arms at eighteen years old. He would have graduated in a few months, found a girlfriend, lived his life.

But _I_ happened to him. A stupid, overconfident choice I made two years ago resulted in our meeting, in my amnesia, and his kindness—a kindness that I betrayed.

"I'm s-so sorry, Ryan...!" I sobbed into his chest, where the blood from his neck began to run. "I'm s-so s-sorry! T-This is all m-my fault! It's all m-my fault! Please, don't go! Don't leave! P-Please!"

I heard footsteps approach, but I didn't turn to meet whomever was watching Ryan and I until I heard an even softer sound. Four Assassins dressed in black hoodies, their hoods up and masks concealing their faces, gently laid Tyler's body not far from Ryan's.

"We _tried_," the only female Assassin in black whispered. "We honestly _tried_. He..." She looked at Tyler's body. "He told me to tell you that he loves you." I watched her for a while, and then reached for Tyler and clutched him just as tightly as Ryan. "I'm... _so_ sorry."

"Don't be," I whispered in response. "It... It was my responsibility to keep them safe. I failed." I held them for a while longer, and then closed their deadened eyes. "Rest in peace, Ryan, Tyler. You deserve it."

The worst part of losing family is letting go. Of having to turn your back on their bodies and continue forward. People say that they continue living in your heart, your memories, but they aren't breathing. You can't feel the warmth of their bodies as you hold them close or play around with them. Their laugh, their smile, is forever gone from the world. Could you really move forward—could _I_ really move forward—knowing that the blame was mine?

I shook my head, and then slowly undid the belts at my waist. I discarded my silver blade to the ground, and then undid the holsters for my throwing knives. My shortblade was the next to hit the ground, and I found that unfastening my hidden blades took the longest.

The female Assassin stepped forward. "What are you—?"

I shoved the hidden blades roughly into her outstretched arms and threw my hood from my face. "I'm done. I'm resigning from the Order. I will _never_ kill again. That is my promise; one I _know_ I can keep." She grabbed my shoulder after she shoved the hidden blades into the arms of the largest Assassin there. I shrugged her off. "Avrete vissuto la tua vita anche se si può trovare qualcosa per cui vivere, piuttosto che qualcosa da uccidere."

I started on my way, back to the Grand Temple... where I would leave my Order. For good.

_**1750**_

Ziio and I silently crept through the forest, our eyes never wandering once from the buck that lay ahead. I saw her ready her knife, and so I grabbed my bow and nocked an arrow into the string. Taking a few deep breaths, we watched as the buck grazed, and then I snuck around it. When I was hidden well, I pulled the string back and leapt from the bushes. The arrow flew into the tree just above the buck's head, and it galloped away from me. Ziio lunged from her hiding place and sunk her knife into the buck's neck, effectively killing it.

Once I'd recovered the arrow and jogged to Ziio and the dead deer, she grinned up at me. "You're getting better at this, Kana," she commented. "It almost came right at me!" Recently, Ziio had been shortening my newfound name to "Kana" rather than "Kanaka". Probably because I continued to address her as "Ziio".

"I'd count yourself lucky; it didn't trample you!" I retorted.

Ziio laughed, and then tossed me a knife. "Cut the hooves off so it can bleed on the way back. I hope you know that you're carrying it!"

"A terrible form of punishment, Ziio!" I grinned, and once we'd de-hoofed the deer, I shouldered it and we hurried back to the village.

We fell in behind a few other hunters and swapped tales of our kills. Or, rather, Ziio did while I smiled and nodded. I still couldn't fully grasp their language, but my single-word vocabulary was growing.

As soon as we left the deer in the hands of the skinners, the Clan Mother made her way over to Ziio and I. She smiled gracefully, and spoke some words to Ziio.

"The Clan Mother asks that we make a donation of venison to Achilles," Ziio translated. "He aided our hunters a few days ago, and she wants to repay the favour."

I nodded. "We can definitely do that. Would you tell her?"

"Yes, because _you_ won't be able to."

I punched her arm when the Clan Mother left, and she pressed a paper-wrapped piece of venison against her new bruise while we left the village.

"You don't suppose we should have brought something warmer this time?" I asked Ziio. "We don't want to be caught in unexpected rain again."

"The weather will be _fine_, Kana!" Ziio chided. "You worry too much!"

"I simply enjoy being prepared!"

Ziio playfully punched my arm, and I flinched, knowing that she would take a small bit of pleasure at the gesture.

"How big do you think Connor is this time...?" I asked her. "He just keeps growing!"

"He's only two, Kana." Ziio sighed. "You always get so excited whenever you see him. Are you thinking of having one of your own?"

I hesitated, and could not decide on an answer. "Children... They are a very _big_ responsibility..."

"No larger than the one you carry at the village," Ziio countered. "How old are you, Kana?"

I paused. "Hm... How old do I look?"

Ziio took her time in examining my face. "In those furs, you could probably have seen twenty-one winters," she said. "Without them, only seventeen or eighteen."

"Then we'll settle on that," I agreed.

She frowned. "Which one?"

"Whichever works for you." I grinned at her, and she whipped a piece of meat against the back of my head. "Ow! Goddammit!"

"Beating you senseless works for me," she growled.

I rubbed the back of my head, frowning, but stifling a laugh. It was never a dull moment with Ziio.

Once the Davenport Manor came within sight, I grinned and started running. "Race you!"

"Cheater!" Ziio yelled after me, and leapt from the outstretched tree into the cluster of branches seconds after me.

I just hoped we didn't lose any of the meat on the way down.

_**1534**_

It was a routine trip back to Firenze to check up on the Italian Assassins that I had been sent on. I sighed as soon as I entered the safehouse and collapsed onto the nearest bed, my body aching from the trip.

"Maestro Sofia?!" a voice yelled. "She has arrived?!"

I groaned and grabbed the nearest pillow, jamming it over my head to blot out the sound. I was quite content to fall asleep then and there, even with my boots on and all of my weapons still on my body.

I think I did, too. I peeled my eyes open and found that only a few hours had passed. Annoyed, I got out of the bed and began removing my weapons before I removed my robes. Now that I was only in my shirt and trousers, I was definitely more comfortable.

Until someone threw a book at my head.

I caught the book before it hit the ground and glared at the person who threw it at me. They had a twisted smile on their face as they balanced another book in their palm, but I recognized them almost instantly. She was wearing a far more fitted version of Giovanni's robes that had been passed down to Ezio (and showed a considerable amount of cleavage) that were white in colour, and her hood was lowered. Her face resembled Sofia's, but her chocolate eyes and brown hair, now tied back with a red ribbon, was Ezio's influence.

"Salve, _Maestro_ Sofia," Flavia chided. "How long did you think you could get away without a greeting?"

"Flavia?!" I exclaimed. "What are you doing here?!"

She shrugged and placed the book on a nearby table. "I read padre's memoirs once you left. I understood what you and he strove for, and I could not pass up the challenge!"

"Mio dio, Flavia!" She came around and hugged me, and I returned it. "I cannot believe that you joined the Order!"

"Marcello did too," Flavia said. "He's snoring in the other room, for now. What are you doing back in Firenze?"

I waved a bored hand. "Routine check-up. I ensure that the Assassins are operating well, and that nothing is hindering their progress... for now. It's easier for me to get around than many other old men, you see."

Flavia grinned. "Did you know that I had a bit of an edge when I joined? They barely had to train me because of all the drills you put Marcello and I through! They called it, 'Ezio's influence', you know."

"You were easy to teach," I assured her. "Ezio may or may not have had anything to do with it."

She shrugged. "I mostly stay behind on missions though. I find information, study maps, track our spies... desk work. Much like zia Claudia."

"Claudia found it useful later," I told Flavia. "I hate to say it, but I'm tired, and in need of rest. It was a long journey from Francia."

Flavia nodded. "Of course. Mi dispiace. I will tell the others not to disturb you."

I sighed in relief. "Grazie, Flavia. And be careful where you toss those books next time."

"No promises, Maestro."


	18. Into Hell

Chapter Seventeen:

Into Hell

_**1226**_

__The months passed in a strangled blur at the hands of Abbas and Swami. Every day, a new wave of agony. Every night, sleepless. There hadn't been any sign of Altair, Maria or Darim during that time, and my worry was only increasing. And while my worry swelled, my sanity deflated. Some nights, when I would actually manage to fall asleep, I could feel myself slipping. I had once tried to bite the jailor as he came near, though I cannot recall if it was out of desperation or madness.

When the most recent day was done, I was dragged back down to the dungeon and shackled to the wall once more. Black blots had settled in my vision for weeks, and I'd paid no mind to them before, but now they seemed more prominent than ever.

I was dimly aware that someone was calling my name. I ignored it. My head hurt too much to pay anything much attention. Eventually, I heard no sound at all but the wind outside. My eyes, heavy and bagged, still refused to close to allow me sleep. I knew months had passed, but not how many, nor the days.

I coughed as a chill entered my body and shivered for good measure. Abbas was winning. That I knew, and I hated it. Despised it with my entire being—loathed the very thought of losing to him!

Again, someone called my name. _Malik,_ I affirmed. _Right. Malik._

"Suna...?" Malik called again. I wondered how many times he'd said my name.

"... Malik," I responded.

He breathed a sigh of relief. His beard had grown longer, his frame smaller, during the time we'd been incarcerated. "I feared you would not speak to me," he admitted.

"I... almost didn't."

Malik paused. "Did Altair ever tell you about his time in Cyprus?"

"Very little," I admitted.

He nodded. "There was a woman there that he fought. The people called her the Dark Oracle, and on occasion, the Witch. She revealed the location of the Kyrenia safehouse, and Altair had to silence her. He believed that she'd been a Cypriot noblewoman, but the Templars had stripped her of her title and her dignity, and threw her in their dungeon when they believed they were finished with her. She may have even aided the Resistance once, because she knew the location of the safehouse. At least, it is what Altair believed. He attempted to reason with her, but she was too far in her madness to listen, and Altair ended her life to free her."

I hesitated. "Why are you telling me this?"

"We cannot have another Dark Oracle, Suna. Do not fall if you cannot climb up again."

I shut my eyes tight. Were it up to me, the madness would never be there. It would never torment me. But it _was_. I couldn't hold on much longer. I would fight with every fibre of my being, until my last, and hope that Altair came before I fell far enough. He would catch me. I was certain.

"I will try, Malik," I assured him. "I will try."

_**2012**_

__I didn't step even a foot into the main chamber of the Grand Temple before Rebecca and Walter rushed over. From the looks on their faces, they knew. They knew about Ryan and Tyler. I felt a small relief that I wouldn't have to tell them with my own mouth. I was barely keeping myself together as it was.

"Kiddo..." Rebecca murmured as she hugged me tightly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I wanted to hold her and Walter as tightly as I could and crumple into a pathetic heap right there, but as my arms rose, I stopped them, and they fell back to my sides. Rebecca, one day, would pass. Shaun, Bill and Desmond, as well. Walter would follow. No matter what I'd do, I'd lose them. I realized that it would be best if I didn't make any close attachments, but I was already too far down that path.

"I didn't want to drag them into this," I whispered, my hands clenching at my sides. As if he could read my mind, Walter slipped his hand into mine and kissed the top of my head. "I didn't want them to see the world as I see it."

Rebecca finally released me, and Walter was there to take her place. I wrapped my arms around him and balled his shirt in my fists as tightly as I'd held Ryan and Tyler. I didn't want to let him go. I didn't want to let anyone else go.

"The team informed me of your decision." Bill's voice cut through the silence, and I turned to face him. Desmond was just coming up, a satisfied grin on his face.

But his grin quickly disappeared. "Wait, what decision?" he asked.

Bill checked his phone. "Did you hook up that power source?"

"Yeah, dad." Desmond's brow furrowed. "What decision?"

"I'm resigning from the Order," I stated. "I... I never want to take another life, and I want to live the rest of mine in peace. I don't want to drag anyone else into this conflict."

"You're _what_?!" Shaun exclaimed while Rebecca froze. "You can't just walk away from this! I'm sure you've heard about what happened with Nikolai Orelov?!"

"I was there, Shaun," I told him. "That idiot nearly blew my friggin' head off because of his stunt with his cabin."

Shaun facepalmed. "Right. Why do I continue to doubt your presence at some events...?"

Bill crossed his arms and looked thoughtful. "Samantha, before you make this decision, I want to take you somewhere."

I snorted. "Where?"

"The home of Emma Hale."

"Emma?" I shook my head. "You would have me go to the home of a trusted Assassin in hopes that she might convince me to come back. I'm not that naїve, Bill."

"I never said you were." Bill gestured to the entrance of the Grand Temple. "I just want you to trust me on this. You owe her an explanation, regardless."

"How?"

Bill smirked. "You don't remember? Twelve years ago, at one of our Assassin training camps, the previous 'Number Four' paid a visit. One of the recruits, the young Miss Hale, nearly de-hooded you over a bet, but you defeated her and encouraged her to keep trying."

I closed my eyes. Of course. How could I have forgotten? Over the years, the faces and names had muddled together, and it was difficult to remember such brief periods. But I remembered Emma now.

I had been touring the United States' training facilities for Assassins on the Mentor's orders, shortly after Daniel Cross' betrayal. The training camp was designed to look like an ordinary summer camp, but its true purpose was to instruct Assassins in the physical part of being an Assassin. Emma Hale was a fighter, but she tired easily and was quick to get hurt. The one overseeing the instruction of the Assassins, Master Orson, was particularly harsh on her because of her father's reputation within the Assassins.

Emma and I had—quite literally—bumped into each other there. Over the next few days, I'd provided a few fighting examples and got to observe her. Emma was not the fastest or the strongest (which she had admitted herself, but she was only seven at the time), but I saw something in her eyes that reminded me a lot of myself and my brothers, and it had made me wonder if that was how Altair had seen me... once.

Master Orson, later, got the bright idea of setting me up for a fight with anyone who wanted to volunteer. It just so happened that Emma had made a bet with her brothers, one younger and one older, that she could de-hood me. She had put up a good fight, and I had held back because she was only a kid, but she once grabbed hold of my hood and nearly won her bet, and so I upped the ante. Throwing her off of me, I caught her in mid-air and gave her the wedgie of her nightmares, and then tossed her by her undies to the other side of the ring we were in.

But Emma, despite her impressive performance, was asked by Orson to leave the camp. That meant that she wouldn't be any good as an Assassin, and the shame she could bring on her father would be immense for someone of his reputation. In defiance, Emma climbed a wooden pole at the centre of camp with two weights that weighed more than her to retrieve something that Orson had put up there (I hadn't really seen it). Upon getting it, she performed a Leap of Faith into a nearby haystack and was welcomed back into the camp.

I had left two items for her when I left. The first, a ponytail that I had used to keep her hair out of her face. The second, my aviator sunglasses. I hadn't really needed them, but they had reminded me of my old friend, Amelia Earhart.

"She grew up..." I said absently. Emma Hale was a Master Assassin at nineteen. A great achievement, and not one expected from someone who was singled-out by that hard-ass, Orson.

"She followed your rather vague career with everything she had," Bill told me. "She admired you to the point of worship. When you were M.I.A. two years ago, Emma searched for you. And you know what she said when I told her to stop, that you were gone?" I shook my head, shrugging for good measure. "She said, 'She promised me a fight. She wouldn't go back on that promise.' So, Samantha..." Bill turned his nose upward slightly. "Get in the van so I can drive you to her home, and then you can tell her that the person she's looked up to for the last twelve years, the former 'Number Four', the legendary 'Shadow-Step', is resigning from the Assassin Brotherhood."

Clutching Walter tightly once more, I glared at Bill. "Lead on," I growled.

I was sure my niece would understand. She was an Assassin, after all.

_**1226**_

__I hated going outside in the mornings. The bright sunlight nearly seared my eyes every time I was dragged there. How long had it been? Too long. Too long. My thoughts were plagued with recurring memories of the Hell I'd found myself in. The man that stood above me every morning, speaking words I couldn't decipher... I knew him. I knew his name. _Abbas_. My being curdled at the very thought of the man.

I knew why the man leered at me this time. His face, as well as his greying beard, was contorted in fury and disgust. I met his eyes and instinctively ran my tongue across my tried lips. The taste of blood, sickly and metallic, lingered on my tongue.

I'd just killed. My enemies were the ones in white. I'd wished to stain their robes with crimson blood for a long time. This was a victory to me, and the man—the demon named _Abbas_—knew it. I bared my teeth at him, turning a corner of my lips upwards. I dared him to approach. I'd kill him in the same manner I'd killed the other, and I'd revel in his death.

His mouth moved. Words came out. I didn't understand. I didn't look away. He became louder, and then his hand struck my cheek. I laughed at him, hoping that the act would urge him closer to me.

I could very dimly remember the man I'd just killed. He was terrible, like Abbas. He'd come in the cell I occupied and hit me. This time, he'd decided I was too weak to defend myself and hoped to take advantage of me. The man in the cell next to me was loud, about as loud as Abbas was now. I'd awoken just as the man had unfastened the shackle around my right wrist, and hadn't a second thought on killing him. My hand had shot out and wrapped around his throat, and then I slammed him against the bars of the cell. The man beside my cell was screaming at me, but his words... I didn't know them. I couldn't.

And then the man whose life I held in my hand grabbed a dagger and plunged it into my side. All I could see was red, but I didn't release him. Rather, as his life was ebbing away, I'd released his neck, grabbing his shoulder, pulled him close to me and bit his neck. He'd screamed and thrashed, but I tore out a chunk of his flesh, spat it onto the ground, and watched his body convulse as blood from his jugular vein gushed onto the floor of my cell. The river his blood formed even made its way into the cell next to mine. Seconds after he'd died, other men rushed in as I pulled the dagger from my ribcage. They grabbed me, subdued me, and then brought me outside to face their master. _Abbas_.

He grabbed hold of my chin fearlessly and shook my head. Perhaps he was demanding an answer. Why did I kill that man in white? Because he was an enemy; he deserved to die. Because his white tunic would look beautiful if stained with his blood. I laughed in Abbas' face, and he released my head, deigning to slap me again. But I did not cease my laughter. I would kill them. I would kill every man in white. I would watch them bleed, and see the life in their eyes turn to nothing. They may as well have never existed.

It struck me, as Abbas turned to address the other people gathered to watch me, that Abbas would look the best of all the men if he were doused in his own blood. I licked my lips again, dreaming of the day that Abbas' neck would be open, spraying blood onto his pristine, white robe.

I looked forward to the day that his eyes would look up at me. Look up, but not see me. Because in death, no one sees. They are nothing.

Nothing.


	19. The Abyss of Madness

Chapter Eighteen:

The Abyss of Madness

_**1228**_

__The men in white limited their visits since the death of their brother. Very rarely would they come with food. Rarer still would I be permitted to have it. I was no longer taken outside. Rather, they decided moving me was too troublesome—too dangerous. Instead, the daily hell I'd been receiving was limited to only the cell I was imprisoned in. I never left.

The man in the cage next to me had stopped speaking long ago. His body was weakened, and more often than not the food that the men in white would bring to the dungeon was given to him. If he ate too fast, he would not be able to keep the food down, and it would stink for the next few days. He would sometimes try to goad me with the food he received by trying to hand it to me through the bars. I would never react.

It had been a long time since I saw the light of the sun. A very long time. My eyes had accumulated to the darkness of the dungeon with little difficulty, so looking at the sun now would only hurt. I didn't like getting hurt. Not being able to fight back against those who would do me harm made me feel pathetic and weak, but when I killed the man before, I'd felt _strong_. Stronger than I had in a long, long time.

I heard a grunt up the stairs, and then the sound of a body falling. I hadn't heard that sound at all in the time I'd been in the cell. Something was happening.

A man in white came down the steps hurriedly, his hood obscuring his face from sight. He paid no attention to me. Rather, he hurried to the cell of the man next to me. He cried out and opened the cell, quickly draping the scrawny arm of the man over his broad shoulders. The weaker man attempted to speak to the man in white, but the man silenced him swiftly and hurried out of the dungeon.

I was confused. The men in white would hurt the man and I. Why did this one aid him? Perhaps he was leading the man to his death?

He returned a short time later with someone else, and both were breathless. They stared at me, similar to how the other men in white had before, but with far less disgust in their eyes. The one who accompanied him was not in white. She had white hair, but she was not wearing white. They spoke quickly to each other before the man opened the door of the cell and approached.

_Maninwhitemaninwhitemaninwhi temaninwhitemaninwhitemaninw hitemaninwhitemaninwhitemani nwhitemaninwhite—!_

He got too close. I attempted to lash out—to grab hold of him, despite the shackles—but the other grabbed hold of his robe and yanked him backwards. As soon as he was outside the cell, I stopped. He was no longer a danger.

The other spoke quietly to the man while he stared at me with something like disbelief. They put a hand on his heart, overtop of his white robe, speaking softly. The man ran his hands up her arms, nodded, and began to discard his robes on the floor while the other made her way into the cell.

I ignored her approach. I ignored her when she spoke. I just glared at her, hoping that my eyes would tell her to leave. She crouched in front of me, slowly reaching her hand out, and as her hand passed the hair that hung lank in front of my face I pulled back, pressing myself against the cold, stone wall.

She whispered something as she pulled her hand back. Her eyes betrayed her hurt. But she wrapped her arms around me tightly and held me there. I panicked, my heart racing with fear, and struggled to get away, but she held firm. The wounds I had received, now infected, burned intensely.

The man came towards us again, his white robes discarded in a corner. He had grey hair and the beginnings of a beard on his face. He procured a key from a pouch on his belt and inserted it into the shackles, releasing me.

My arms fell to my sides, sore and screaming, but they were quickly raised again as they were draped across the shoulders of the people, much like the man who'd been taken before me.

We moved quickly throughout the castle, avoiding the men in white that patrolled its walls. The sunlight stung my eyes mercilessly, and whenever a man in white came too close I tensed, ready to run or take his life, but the woman held me around the waist tightly. She wouldn't allow me to do either.

They finally released me when we reached a small lodging within the castle, with a double-bed against the wall and the man who was in the dungeon with me lying on it, sound asleep. The two released me as soon as we entered the room, and I immediately went to sit under the window. I didn't want to move. The warmth from the stones against my back, heated by the sun, relieved my back. If I moved, surely I would feel the intense cold of the stones back in the dungeon.

I afforded a look to the man laying on the bed though. Had he asked the others to return for me? Or were we awaiting our death together? The other, stronger man had been dressed in white. His allegiance was decided, surely.

I realized then just how tired I was; how exhausted I had become over the time I'd been in my cell. How much time had passed? When had I last slept? When had I last done anything but dread the coming of the drooling lapdogs at Abbas' beck and call?

The woman came close to me, a wetted cloth in her hand. The stronger man was pacing, and his feelings were making the room tense. The woman looked back to quieten him. The man on the bed stirred. These things were familiar, and prodding the back of my mind mercilessly.

She crept closer and gently took my hands in hers, scrubbing mine with the cloth. She pulled back for a moment, and I focused on my mind. They were spattered with dried blood that clung to my flesh with no intention of releasing me. I clenched my hands into fists, hoping the flakes would fall away, but to no avail. The blood wasn't leaving. _The_ _blood_ _wasn't_ _leaving_.

The woman grabbed my hands as I began to panic. I wanted the blood gone. I wanted it gone! It was taking hold of me and I wanted to be free of it!

As she gripped my hands, the woman spoke. I couldn't understand—no, I couldn't hear. I couldn't hear her words, as if they had been shut out. I could hear the birds chirping outside, and the sounds of steel against steel, but... Her words were lost to me. I _needed_ to understand!

The man pacing suddenly said something to the woman and left through the door. She hesitated, then pressed the cloth into my hands and followed after him, but I grabbed onto her sleeve to prevent her from leaving. She watched me for a time as I desperately clung to her, and then she smiled softly and pressed her lips against the top of my head and whispered something. I released her without knowing it, and then she made her way out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

I stared at the cloth for hours. The sun began to reach its peak in the sky by the time it was nearly dried, but I made no attempt to use it on myself. Because surely, if I did, it wouldn't come off.

The door rattled. I glanced upwards in time to see three men in white stalk into the room. I recognized one. Abbas' chief lapdog: _Swami_.

I lunged at him, discarding the cloth to the floor, but one of the other men in white stepped in front of Swami to protect him. My vision went red as my hands grasped his neck and began squeezing the life out of him. The other man in white got behind me as Swami hurried towards the bed, towards the man who still lay sleeping. In one quick movement I broke the man in white's neck and face my next opponent, roaring as I slammed him against the wall and bit hard into his neck. He screamed, but they soon drowned out into fitful gurgles as I ripped his jugular open.

I turned to Swami, and met his dagger instead. He drove the already bloodied blade into my gut and clutched the burlap sack to his chest. The bottom of the sack dripped blood onto his white robe, and I turned to look at the man who was asleep on the bed.

He was dead. His head was gone from his body.

A fresh wave of rage cascaded into me, and I screamed at Swami. He twisted his dagger, paralyzing me with pain, and then pushed me into the wall. My strength left my legs, and I fell into it, my hand clutching the dagger protruding from my gut. He made to leave, but I grasped his boot tightly to halt him. With a look of disgust, he kicked me once in the face and left, shutting the door behind him.

White-hot tears fell from my eyes, leaving a burning trail on my cheeks. My heart felt heavy, weary with loss. I felt my very being begin to slip from the agony.

_"I swear, sometimes I do not understand why you __aren't__ related to Altair! You're just like him!"_

_ 'I am not 'just like' the Grandmaster, Master Malik," I chided, and swung my sword against the training dummy. "I have many years of practice yet. I may never get to his level at the rate I'm going."_

_ "Well excuse me for trying to help!" _

_"I heard that this fortress was a sign of Assassin arrogance, and that we should be spread out across the world instead of one focused place. We are choosing subtlety over dominance because we have become too overconfident of our abilities," I answered._

_ Malik smiled. "Well done, Suna. Yes, the Assassins have learned a valuable lesson from arrogance. But you can always be redeemed by hard work, and a bit of luck." Malik smiled mischievously. "In the Grandmaster's case, it was __a lot__ of luck."_

_ "I heard that, Malik!" Altair called from the window above the entryway. "Stop exaggerating!"_

_ MALIK!_

_ ALTAIR!_

_ MARIA!_

_ DARIM!_

My head throbbed in pain, and I clutched it, willing the screams of my headache to leave. When they subsided, I looked through blurred vision to see the cloth I'd discarded on the ground.

_No,_ I thought. _Not cloth. This is..._ I picked it up gently, and then balled it into my fist, grasping it, and willing it to stay. This is Maria's handkerchief.

I stood painfully and pulled the dagger from my gut. I needed to get to Atlair and Maria, and warn them of... _Of Malik's death._ A new wave of emotion overcame me, but I stood my ground. My priorities kicked in. The living over the dead.

Uttering a silent prayer for Malik, I grabbed the gloves of one of the dead Assassins and slipped them on to obscure the blood on my hands, and then grabbed the upper-part of the cowl so I could obscure my face. The white gave me goosebumps.

_Maria... Darim... Altair... I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm coming! I'm here now! Just wait for me!_


	20. About Time

Chapter Nineteen:

About Time

_**2012**_

Walter came with Bill and I to Emma's place, but I was just dropped off at the end of the driveway while Bill and Walter remained in the van.

And it was a _long_ driveway.

I didn't know if it was part of Bill's plan to make me think, reflect on my decision to leave the Order, or if it was his way of being an ass but it was only making me annoyed at its distance. And still, it was kind of working. I weighed the pros and cons of leaving the Order, and found that they evened out, which depressed me. Leaving meant I could live the remainder of my life in peace with Walter, but I had no idea how much longer I would live, and Walter still aged. All I wanted was peace, but I couldn't find any.

Before I knew it, I had arrived on the porch of Emma's home. She lived in an old two-story farmhouse, with a barn not far away. I hesitated by the door, wondering if she was home. Of course she would be; Bill would have called her.

I wondered if she would recognize me in the plain tee and blue jeans that I was wearing, or if she would think I had just had my car break down and needed some help.

My arm was up, ready to knock on the door, when I heard voices coming from the barn. I unconsciously grabbed the sunglasses that hung from the collar of my T-shirt and placed them on my face to obscure my golden eyes as two boys came out of the barn. One was taller, with broad shoulders and brown hair, while the other was lean with honey-coloured hair. They were very nearly covered in oil, so I assumed that there had to be some vehicles around that they were working on.

The larger one spotted me and waved. I didn't know what to do, so I stood there, frozen in place.

"Emma!" he called. "Forget your key?"

My eyebrows raised when I realized he thought I was Emma. Of course, I _had_ noticed similarities between Emma and I, but I hadn't thought we looked _that_ alike. She technically wasn't related to me, despite my being her greatest aunt in history.

It must have been the tattoos on my forearms that gave away that I wasn't really who they thought I was, because they both began cussing and apologizing once they finally approached close enough. I remembered them from when Emma was little—one was her brother (the one with brown hair, I assumed, because he had a glint in his eye that reminded me immediately of Darim), and the other was her cousin, but whom she referred to as her half-brother.

"I'm looking for Emma," I told them when they asked why I was on their property.

The larger one (I couldn't remember either of their names) crossed his arms and leaned against the house. "What for?" he asked.

"Bill sent me," I replied.

An uneasy, tense silence surrounded us almost instantly. The smaller one bowed his head ever so slightly while the larger one seemed to tense up just a bit more.

"Oh," he said matter-of-factly. "I'll... um, I'll go get her."

I nodded and moved out of the way so the two could get into their home. I waited outside and leaned against the banister of the porch to watch the scenery around Emma's home. Once, I had run through this place with Ziio. I was certain of it. I had run through more than three states with her, actually, and then later with her son.

I missed them both.

I missed them all.

"You look preoccupied," Emma said as she leaned against the banister with me.

I smiled softly. "Preoccupied doesn't even _begin_ to describe it," I remarked. "But... it's a start."

Emma didn't speak for a while longer, and instead enjoyed the scenery with me. I figured that the silence in-between us and the simple activity we were doing counted as an aunt-niece-bonding thing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Emma asked softly. "About what's bothering you?"

I hung my head, clenching my fists automatically as I thought of driving my blade through Ryan so easily. "I..."

"Not here," Emma interjected. "We'll take the horses. Go somewhere else."

I nodded at her suggestion. She led me to where the horses were corralled and saddled the one she preferred while I saddled one I got along with. Emma had come over, as if ready to help me, but I think she forgot that I was born in a time where horses were the main form of transportation, and mounted her horse when she realized I was fine.

Emma led the way at a canter, and I stayed just a little behind, but still beside her. The smell of the horses was nostalgic to me, especially as we made our way through the forest around her home.

_"Hey, Darim! Don't treat the horse like that!"_

_ "It's just a horse, sister! It's not like—!"_

_ I exploded with laughter as Darim was bucked off of his mount and landed in a puddle of mud. I grabbed the reigns of his horse before it could run off and stuck my tongue out at him._

_ "Shut-up!"_

_ "I said nothing, dear brother!"_

_ "But you did that thing!"_

_ "What thing?"_

_ "Stop it!"_

I smiled at the memory and felt a tug of pain in my heart. Emma and I remained silent throughout the trip until Emma dismounted her horse and tethered it to a tree. I did the same, fastening the reigns of my horse to a tree nearby Emma's.

She led me into a small clearing and sat immediately on a boulder that had probably been placed there years ago. I sat beside her and enjoyed the scenery again before she handed me a water bottle. I wondered where she'd had it, but I decided it was best not to ask.

After taking a long gulp of water, I handed it back to her and sighed. "Thanks," I said.

"Anytime." Emma took a drink as well and then screwed the cap back onto the bottle.

I smirked. "What memories did you relive as Sehkat?"

Darim's descendant and Emma's ancestor was the person who'd taught me to blend with courtesans. I still had to work on shutting off the "courtesan walk", and I was relieved that it hadn't shown through very much.

"Akar Khaa," she said. "You and Sehkat killed his body-double, and then went after him the next night." She grinned mischievously. "The first time, Sehkat created the distraction. The second, you brushed up against that poor, innocent, seduced guard."

My face went red and I covered it with my hands. "I-It was for the mission!" I exclaimed. "And it was Sehkat's fault!"

"I don't remember my ancestor making you sway your hips in front of him—."

"Geezus, shut-up!"

"What is it, Shakira?" I glared at her, but Emma remained unaffected and smirked in response. "It ended when you left for Italy," she continued, undaunted. "I suppose she had my ancestor some time after that."

"Layla," I remarked, and then paused. "Or Amunta. One of 'em, for sure. Both of them stole my robes when I visited later..."

"I guess thievery runs in my blood then," Emma said absently. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged. "Never mind."

I laid on the rock, my shoes barely grazing the grass, and let out another sigh. Emma imitated me, sigh and all. I wondered how we were so alike, despite the fact that we weren't related by blood.

Then again, I had become more like Maria because I'd admired her. Was Emma the same?

_If she hadn't given up looking for me, I suppose so..._ I thought.

"So, what is it?" Emma asked. "What'd you come all the way out here for?"

I had been waiting for Emma to convince me to stay with the Assassins from the moment I stepped on her porch, but she'd said nothing on it. Like an opponent, she was waiting until I was most vulnerable. Sadly, now would be the time, because the death of my brothers was still fresh in my mind. How could it not be?

"I... killed them," I told her. "I killed Ryan and Tyler—the people who took care of me for those two years. I killed them..."

Emma remained silent. It had seemed as if she had something to say for everything, but now... She either couldn't find the words, or she was being respectfully quiet. I wanted her to say something so I wouldn't have to continue.

"Ryan tried to stab me when he saw Tyler's body. I could have prevented it, but... God, I wasn't strong enough! I wasn't smart enough! If I had just been a little better, or had trained just a little harder in my youth, then surely I could have saved them! But..." I paused and shook my head. "How foolish of me. I thought to use something childish against the Templars to play with them, but they caught me almost instantly. Ryan saved me, and _this_ is how I've repaid him and his little brother!"

Emma propped her head up with her elbow to look at me. She had the same serious look in her eyes that Darim would sometimes get. "Do you regret it?" she asked.

"What?"

"Not killing them," she said, "but do you regret the time you spent with them?"

I hesitated, but I knew my answer. "Not a minute."

"Then think of them that way; the way they were before they discovered our world." Emma sighed. "Tell me, what's your name?"

"You know my name," I grumbled.

Emma narrowed her eyes. "What's your name?"

Frowning, I replied, "Samantha Warner."

"Wrong answer," Emma said. "You're acting like her right now, but that's not who you are. Samantha Warner died with her brothers in that train yard."

I shut my eyes, and then reopened them, peering at Emma. "How did you know it was at a train yard?"

Suddenly, Emma looked downcast. "I was there," she admitted feebly. "You shoved your weapons into my arms and denounced yourself as you left. I... I was the one sent with Derek, Erik and Joel to recover Tyler. But... I couldn't save him. He died in _my_ arms." She paused while I processed the newfound information. "Did you know that, before then, I'd never once failed a mission? I'd never failed killing a target or rescuing a friend. Tyler was my first failure."

I shut my eyes tight and remembered the feeling of Chara's body in my arms. _I think... I think she was my first failure as well..._

"One cannot truly succeed until they have tasted failure," I murmured. "Altair said that to me once. He said that he learned that lesson the hard way, before he knew me."

"The hunt for the nine," she remarked.

I nodded. "Tyler wasn't your failure. If you insist so, then half the blame is mine. He shouldn't have known me in the first place."

"Then tell me your name," Emma insisted.

I bristled, wondering how the conversation could have gone in a circle. "Suna Ibn-La'Ahad," I answered.

Emma sat up. "Damn right it is!" I wondered how she'd gotten so fired up so quickly. "It isn't 'Samantha Warner'! It isn't 'Sara Taylor', and it sure as hell isn't 'Sofia d'Alviano'!" I sat up just as Emma jabbed a finger into my chest (which kinda hurt). "Suna Ibn-La'Ahad, the Shadow-Step! A ghost amongst legends! So tell me, Suna: why go through all you have for the Assassins only to give up now?" She smirked. "You've already come so far; why give up now? You can retire after this! Tell you what..." Emma stood up. "You'll retire the 21st of December, immediately after we Assassins save the world. And then you and me, we'll head down to Jamaica and sip margaritas."

I laughed, unable to contain the sight of me sitting on a beach with alcohol. "I've got some... interesting memories of Jamaica."

"I'd love to hear all about 'em when we're there." Emma offered me a hand to invite me up. "Okay? Just a while longer. I promise."

She'd done it so easily. I could really see then why Bill had entrusted me to her, and how she had assumed the status of "Master Assassin" so young. So strong was her conviction in the Assassins. So strong was her heart, and the will that drove it.

I grasped her hand. "Why waste your time on me, Emma?" I asked as she pulled me up onto my feet.

She grinned and clapped me on the back. "Well, doesn't Number Four still owe me a rematch?"

I barked with laughter and tensed. I could feel her tensing too. "This time, I'll hang you from the barn by your underwear!"

"I think you have a terrible fetish involving my ancestors and their underwear..." She trailed off, and then grinned. "But I'd love to see you try."

"I don't 'try', Emma Hale." I quickly planted my feet as she used the hand that rested on my back to attempt to throw me forward. "I 'do'."

Let's just say that it was going to be an incredibly satisfying fight, especially since I had to do it to re-enter the Brotherhood.

And God, it sure as hell was.


	21. Walk Like an Egyptian

Chapter Twenty:

Walk Like an Egyptian

_**2012**_

Emma and I returned to her home when Emma admitted to have kept the weapons I'd discarded. I didn't have my robes, but she was generous enough to lend a white jacket with red designs that had a hood with a beak. I'd seen some modern Assassins wearing them before, but it was different from what Emma usually wore. Perhaps she just didn't favour it. Regardless, it worked.

My weapons were put in their respective places, and when I had flipped my hood over my head (hanging my sunglasses on the collar of the jacket rather than wearing them) I met Emma downstairs.

"You look better," she commented. "At least you aren't wearing those robes like a nun wears her habit."

"And this is coming from the person who learned to walk and act like a courtesan?" I grinned. "Spare me, Sister Hale."

"You got it, Shakira."

I had her in a headlock and was giving her a well-deserved noogie when someone knocked on the door. I had to let Emma go while her aunt, Heather (whose wedding Walter and I had attended), answered the door. She stepped back when the door was open to let Bill in.

_That bastard drove the van up the driveway!_

Walter hurried in after him, saw my weapons, smiled and thanked Heather for allowing them entry before he gave me a tight hug.

Bill, as per usual, went straight to business without any formalities or words of thanks to Heather. "So, she managed to convince you?"

"No. Actually, I just threw on my weapons and the white hood to lead you on," I replied sarcastically to the old man. "What's the deal, driving up here?"

"Bill didn't tell us at the time, but it appears that another power source has been spotted in Egypt," Walter explained. "Those things that Desmond went after in Manhattan and Brazil? Yeah, it was spotted in Cairo."

"And you two will be coming with me to retrieve it," Bill added. "You and Walter, I mean, Samantha. While Desmond's looking for that key, we'll be heading to Egypt. So say your good-byes and get back in the van."

Bill turned and left. I stuck my tongue out at his retreating form, unable to stop myself.

"Was that guy always an ass?" Emma asked.

I rolled my eyes. "When he was young, he was just a prick. He definitely deserved a few slaps upside the head..."

Emma laughed as I promised to meet Walter in the van. "So, heading back to Egypt then?"

I shrugged. "I guess so. Maybe I can get some visiting in to some family while I'm there. If I'm going to retire, I'll need to get all my travelling done, right?"

"When you retire, travelling _is_ what you do!"

I shook my head slowly. "Well, Bill's the Mentor for now, so I have to follow his orders. Another time, okay?"

Emma spread her arms wide. "You're not gonna leave me hanging, are you?"

"Of course not." I wrapped my arms around her tightly in a hug, and then released her. "I'll see you in Jamaica, all right?"

"It's a deal," Emma replied.

"Damn right." In the traditional way, Emma and I grabbed each other's forearms, squeezed, and then she let me be on my way. "And bring a bikini! I'm taking pictures!"

"Hell no!" she yelled after me as I climbed into the van.

Bill watched me for a while before he turned the key and sped out of the driveway. "To Cairo," he declared simply.

_**1228**_

I was too late.

Far, _far_ too late.

Shivers traversed down my spine every time my mind re-enacted that moment. Altair's rage as he held the Apple; Malik's head in the burlap sack with blood leaking onto the floor; Swami's screams as he dismembered himself...

And then the final, uttering cry of Maria, as Swami's dagger impaled her side.

I had watched the funeral from a distance, not daring to get close for fear of Swami's supporters overseeing it, but when everyone left I was there, and I had placed flowers on Malik's, Maria's and Sef's graves. People who didn't believe in Swami had buried them. The people had buried the people they respected.

At their gravestones was where Altair and Darim found me, and where we decided that Alamut would be our destination. Darim had discovered that Sef's family moved there after Sef's death. They had never blamed Malik for what happened.

We were riding to Alamut, the Assassin stronghold in Persia, and our journey had mostly consisted of silence. The moment we began our journey, I had thrown the cowl off of myself and discarded the gloves. The first time we set up camp, I found a place to wash the blood and dirt from myself.

I didn't recognize the person reflected back at me.

It had already been three days of soundless wandering towards Alamut. I made my horse follow Altair and Darim at a fair distance, if only for my own sanity.

Darim, however, didn't seem completely aware of what had happened. He slowed his mount and waited until mine was beside his before he matched pace.

"I cannot stand this silence any longer!" he hissed. "Sister—!"

He reached for my arm, and I recoiled, keeping myself away from him on instinct. I could tell that my reaction hurt him. My brother, whom I hadn't seen in more than two years, couldn't even hold a proper conversation with me.

Not when he was dressed in white. Not when I still only saw he and Altair as men in white.

"Darim," Altair called, "come. Now."

Darim gripped the reigns of his horse firmly and ushered it forward until he rode beside Altair. No doubt Altair would have to tell Darim about my incident in the prison.

How strange it was. It had been like a fog draped over my mind, and I had been so lost. I had suffered through everything until I could not suffer any longer, and retreated within my own mind. And then another part of me, the one that survived on instinct alone, had killed those men—had covered their white robes in crimson. More than just my hands were stained with blood; my very soul was.

And while I still shivered at the sight of my father and brother wearing the robes of the men who I'd come to despise with every fibre of my being, all I wanted was to hold them tight and cry. Cry for Sef, Maria and Malik. Just crumple into a ball of nothingness and disappear from the world for a time.

Another day passed before Darim approached me again. Perhaps I was wrong; Altair mustn't have spoken to him about me, else Darim would have known not to approach me in his robes at camp.

He spoke something, but I couldn't focus. His hand began coming towards me, and I began to shrink away. Darim was already frustrated. He'd just learnt of his brother's death, his mother's death, and his "uncle's" death all in the course of a few days. I could understand that he was in pain, but perhaps his pain was masking the pain he would have seen I was in.

So Darim tried again. It was the last he ever did.

My hands wrapped around his throat as I tackled him to the ground. He flailed for just a moment before Altair, in plain traveller's clothes, tore me off of him and pinned me to a tree. I didn't even realized I had done it until it was finished.

"I'm so sorry...!" I sobbed. "I'm so sorry!"

Altair held me there for a while longer before he carefully wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly while I bawled into his shoulder. "I know, Suna. I know," he said quietly. "I am sorry too."

I held onto Altair tighter than I ever had before. I felt so weak, and vulnerable... not the way a forty-some-year-old should have acted. I knew I was broken. I knew it would take time before I could tolerate seeing the white of the Assassin robes again.

Both Altair and I knew it.

I needed to get away from the Assassins.

_**1748**_

"James spoke with me again," I grumbled.

Ziio leaned back on her arms as she sat cross-legged beside the campfire. "Again? That man is persistent."

"He is insisting that I head to England with him sometime, to meet his brother." I began poking at the fire with a stick. "What if his words ring true, Ziio? What if I was in love with his brother?"

"You said it yourself," Ziio commented. "You said that your heart aches when you think about him."

I nodded slowly. "I... I think I have his face in my mind. But... why would I leave? If I loved him, why would I head to the Americas?"

Ziio shrugged, and then pointed at my hand. "Perhaps it has to do with that ability you have," she said. "After all, if you can heal, wouldn't that mean you outlive him?" I unconsciously put a hand to my heart—the place had begun to ache. "And I'm guessing that I'm on the right track."

"Possibly." I paused, and then looked up at Ziio. "I... may take him on his offer. Not anytime soon, mind you. Just... I'll give it a few years."

"Years?" Ziio repeated.

I nodded. "There's still too much for me to do here. I cannot leave quite yet."

"But you've made up your mind?"

"... Yes."

Ziio sighed and leaned back again. "Fine. At least we've got a few more years together, Kana."

"I'm glad for that too, Ziio."


	22. Vacation Time

Chapter Twenty-One:

Vacation Time

_**2012**_

__I facepalmed on the plane to Cairo.

And then I wondered just how much my age affected my memory.

It had been hundreds of years ago that I made a promise to Sehkat, Emma's ancestor and Darim's descendant. I needed to deliver a letter (one that had long since decayed, but I managed to memorized) to someone who looked like Sehkat, but was not her. Naturally, such a request was confusing, but I'd thought, "Hey, why not?".

_Emma_ was that person.

And I'd just boarded a plane to a different continent.

It was just not my day.

"Something the matter?" Walter asked.

I sighed, but took my hand away from my face and entwined my fingers with his. He gave a reassuring squeeze. "No," I replied. "Just remembered something that I can do when I get back."

"You didn't leave the stove on?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Is that a joke about my gender?!"

"N-No!" Walter exclaimed. "Shaun said that I should say that. He said you'd enjoy it."

"I think he's just making fun of us now..." I mumbled. "Ah, well. Cairo's going to be nostalgic."

"Been there before?" Walter asked.

I shrugged. "I've been to so many places that I hardly remember any more. Once I had stayed in Germany, and I returned a while later. I couldn't believe how much time had passed, because it had felt like I'd been there no more than a year or two previous." Smirking, I added, "My life has clumped together into a ball that I can hardly discern."

Walter smiled at me, so I leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips. As I was about to pull away, he gently placed his hand at the back of my head and pulled me just a bit closer.

When we finally came up for air, I noticed an old couple watching us and giggling, as well as pointing at us, garnering the attention of other people on the plane (not including Bill, thankfully). Walter's face went red, and he chose to look out the window to avoid it turning a darker shade of crimson.

"If you two are finished," Bill said as he poked his head up from behind us, "can I read in peace without the sound of your lips smacking?"

"I'm tempted to make-out with Walter just to spite you, old man," I growled.

"Well, next time, why not do it where everyone can see? I might try selling tickets next time."

"You know, you've got to be smart to be a smartass. You're just an ass."

Bill frowned, and opened his mouth to retort when the pilot came on the intercom and announced that we were about the take off. Instead, Bill decided to get back to reading whatever he was reading.

I'll have to give Emma the message later, I thought. Ah, well.

_** 1756**_

__I had left Walter behind, for a second time, months ago, and had wandered aimlessly before I decided that living life with Ziio back in America would be best. I was in no mood to continue my Assassin duties.

James, years ago, had convinced me to return to England. The moment I'd looked through the window of Hugh Manor, I'd remembered. And it had hurt, more than anything I'd felt before. There he was, the person I loved the most, playing with his child on the floor while a woman watched them, though she paid more attention to her embroidery.

I realized that I'd needed a stimulus to jog my memory. Seeing Walter did that, but my heart broke when I saw his child. He'd moved on, and that was what I'd wanted him to do. The thoughts I was having were beyond selfish, and I needed to focus on something else.

So, I decided to return to America, and I wouldn't partake in any Assassin duties. Rather than the "medical leave" I'd received during the years I spent with Ziio, I decided to begin a real vacation.

James had become Mentor of the English Assassins, and was married to Lily. I gave him my regards, and then left promptly for America. I hoped he wouldn't follow, and I hoped that didn't contact Achilles.

I reached America shortly after I received news of the Templar presence. It was flourishing in America under the care of Haytham Kenway. I'd known his father, Edward, for a time, and was disappointed to hear of Haytham's Templar allegiances, but he had enough Assassin sense of his own that he didn't kill needlessly. He still saw people as innocents, despite his colleagues' parallel view that said innocents were sheep to be herded. Still, I decided not to join the fight. For now, I wanted to enjoy a vacation, and focusing on my enemies was not one, at all.

By the time I reached the village of Kanatahséton, the home of Ziio and my own for a number of years, I had already discarded my robes and replaced them with the ones Ziio had crafted me. I already felt as if I'd stepped into a different world.

Oiá:ner (the Mohawk name for the Clan Mother, which literally translated to "Clan Mother") was there to greet me. From the hand gestures she offered me, I gathered that Ziio was waiting for me in one of the longhouses. I thanked her as best I could and sprinted into the village. I was looking forward to seeing Ziio after such a long time.

And so, I was surprised to see her with a newborn babe in her arms.

I skidded to a halt the moment I saw her. She looked up, saw me, and smiled.

"You finally returned," Ziio said. "I was wondering if you'd come back."

"And leave you all alone? You'd die without me." I grinned. "Who's this?"

Ziio looked at the baby. "My son," she said simply. "Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"Ra...?"

"Ra-doon-ha-ge-doon!" Ziio snapped. "Honestly! What is it with your people and names?!"

I grinned. "Ratonhnhaké:ton it is. Who's the father?"

"A man whose morals have come into question," she answered simply. "Hopefully, Ratonhnhaké:ton will never have to meet him."

"Why not? Shouldn't children know their fathers?"

"Not if their fathers are hell-bent on controlling everything." Ziio shook her head. "What am I saying? How was your trip overseas?"

"Revealing," I answered.

Ziio grinned. "Your memory has been returned to you?"

I nodded curtly. "Yep. Now I wish it would leave."

Sighing, Ziio held her arms out. "Would you care to hold him?" she asked.

"I don't want to drop him."

"You've had brothers. And you held Connor before, remember?"

Carefully, tentatively, I took Ratonhnhaké:ton from Ziio and held onto him. He squirmed a lot more than Darim or Sef ever had.

"He's a sweetheart," I said absently as his fist closed around my finger. He already had thick black hair on top of his head. He couldn't have been more than a few days old. "I think he'll be a fine warrior when he grows up!"

"Perhaps," Ziio said as she ran her finger down his arm. "Time will have to tell, Kana. Ratonhnhaké:ton will find his path, like we all must."

"I hope I'm there to see it," I remarked. "Will you teach him English?"

Ziio smirked and patted my shoulder. "That's your job, Kana."

"Mhm. Thanks."

_**1760**_

__"Ratonhnhaké:ton!" I called, annoyed. "_Ratonhnhaké:ton_! Get over here!"

I thought I heard giggling in a nearby bush, so I dived in and tackled the four-year-old out of it. He giggled at my frown, but he blushed furiously. He knew that he was in trouble.

"I am going to string you by your underwear from a tree!" I growled, picking him up by the scruff of his shirt and dragging him back to Kanatahséton.

"No!" Ratonhnhaké:ton cried. "Please! Mother will be very angry!"

"She _is_ very angry!" I snapped. "I can't believe you would run through that settlement! And _naked_! This will really hurt the relations between the village and Concord!"

Ratonhnhaké:ton sheepishly remained silent. "But it was a dare!" he finally said.

"A dare to be as foolish as possible!" I stopped mid-step and sighed. "But you carried it out because you accepted it. I suppose that such a thing is enough to be proud of."

"You and mother have told me to keep my word if I give it," Ratonhnhaké:ton said quietly.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, you have to be wiser, and know _when_ to give your word. Streaking through Concord is not something to give your word to. It is a cheap thrill. Promises such as protecting someone or reuniting with others are far more worth the word of someone as noble as you."

Ratonhnhaké:ton blushed at the compliment. "I understand, Kanaka."

"Good, because now that my lecture's done, it's your mother's turn." I grinned as I saw Ziio marching towards us. Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't dare move for fear of his life.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton! You are attending extra lessons for the next _month_!" she blurted the moment we were within earshot. "So prepare yourself for the most difficult month of your life!"

I laughed and handed Ratonhnhaké:ton over to Ziio. "Too bad I won't be around to see it!"

Ziio frowned at me. "Still taking those courier missions?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yes. Ever since I surpassed you in skill, I've gotten them non-stop. I may be gone for the next month or so to complete them."

"Must be a lot of orders." When I nodded again, Ziio shrugged. "Very well. Just be sure to come back quickly. Ratonhnhaké:ton needs to learn more English."

"Your English is very good. Why not teach him yourself?"

"Because when you're teaching him, I get a day off." I rolled my eyes when Ziio grinned. "You leave in the morning then?"

"Mhm. I should. So, for tonight, can I cook?"

Ziio shook her head. "Your cooking is the worst I've ever tasted. I'm cooking for the sake of my own and my son's taste buds."

I laughed. "Your faith and confidence in me is exemplary!"

"Just don't get me started on the quality of your knitting or embroidery."

I was going to miss the bantering. And the fact that Ratonhnhaké:ton would have extra lessons.


	23. The Burning

Chapter Twenty-Two:

The Burning

_**1760**_

_Ugh... I cannot wait to arrive in Kanatahséton..._ I thought solemnly. _At least I have some money that will help __Oiá:ner and Ziio..._

I sighed. My feet hurt from the seemingly endless walking I'd been doing, and I was weighed down by my weapons and the fat coin purse at my hip, but I didn't want to stop for the night. The village was only a few miles off, and I'd be annoyed with myself if I couldn't make it there before morning.

_Ratonhnhaké:ton will not forgive me if I don't come back when I promise, and that'll show him just how valuable my word is..._

My mind was silent as I trudged to the village from then on. I'd bought Ziio a red sash, and Ratonhnhaké:ton a few beads to tie his unruly hair with (a few red ribbons were included). I couldn't believe that he was only four; Ratonhnhaké:ton was already so _big_.

_He must get it from his father's side. Ziio and her mother are very short, indeed..._

I chuckled at the thought, but my smile quickly vanished as I looked over the horizon. Black smoke rose in large plumes in the direction I was headed. I could hear screams, as well.

_No... NO!_

Forgetting my earlier weariness, I sprinted down the road, my fear holding me back from my full speed because my heart was in pain, and that pain was using up too much energy.

I reached Kanatahséton, which was engulfed in red-hot flames, and dove into the village. Mohawk men and women were screaming, trying to find a way to escape. I wanted to help them, but my main concern was for Ratonhnhaké:ton and Ziio at that moment.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton!" I screamed. "Ziio! Where are you?!"

"Ista!" I heard the cry. I knew it was Ratonhnhaké:ton, and the word he was using was Mohawk for "mother". "Ista!"

"Ratonhnhaké:ton!" I roared. "Ziio?! _Answer me_!"

I finally found Ratonhnhaké:ton being dragged out of a collapsing longhouse by two men. He was stretching his arm to reach someone—_Ziio_?!

I skidded around the corner and charged into the burning longhouse. Leaping overtop of some burning bundles of wood, I found Ziio trapped underneath large beams.

"Ziio!" I cried. "Hold on! I'll get you out of there!"

"Kana?!"

"It's me! Just hold on!" I grabbed hold of the burning beams and hissed as my flesh seared. I had to pull my hands back by my reaction rather than my want. "Dammit! Hold, on, Ziio—!"

"No, Kana!" Ziio reached through the beams and grabbed my hand as more of the longhouse fell to get my attention. "Stop, Kana," she said calmly over the flames. "You can't help me now. It's no use. Did... Did Ratonhnhaké:ton get away?"

I nodded. "Yes. He got away. Ratonhnhaké:ton is safe."

"Then my heart is at ease." Ziio shut her eyes, and then looked at me again, a fierce determination in her eyes. "Kana, I won't make you stay. Yours is a free spirit, and you must wander these lands to your heart's content, but I... _Please_, please take care of Ratonhnhaké:ton. Find a way to care for him, even if you cannot be by his side. Promise me, Kana! Promise me!"

I held Ziio's hand in both of mine and looked her dead in the eye. "I promise, Ziio. No matter what, I'll take care of Ratonhnhaké:ton. I will not let you down."

She nodded slowly, and then pulled her hand out from mine. "Then go. Before this fire takes you as well."

"As far as your people are concerned..." I smiled, and waited by her side. "It already has."

_**2012**_

"Finally," I murmured as I slowly walked off of the plane.

"No kidding," came Walter's slightly delayed reply. "That was _long_."

"We haven't got much time to retrieve the power source," Bill said as he briskly walked past us, checking his phone for e-mails. "The Templars could already be there. And I don't particularly want to run into Daniel Cross."

I snorted. "I'd _love_ to, just so I can kick his traitor Templar ass into the sun..."

Walter grinned. "William, could we at least find somewhere to rest for the night? Surely we'll not go charging into Templar territory while we're jetlagged?"

Bill stopped, frowned at Walter, and then dialled a number. "I'd like to rent a room for three..." he grumbled into his phone.

I breathed a sigh of relief when we got into a taxi and drove to our hotel. There were no tall buildings around it, so no Templar would be able to survey our room. There were two double beds in the hotel room, but no TV, which was fine with me.

But I was _not_ sharing a bed with Bill.

As if he'd read my mind, Walter collapsed onto a bed and held his arm out to me. I happily found my way under it and manoeuvred my feet so that I'd throw my sneakers off.

"I'm going to scout the area. Find out if there's been any strange people near the museum," Bill announced, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Walter and I breathed in relief and got just a bit closer together. Walter smiled devilishly and ran his hand around my stomach and onto my back, overtop of my shirt but underneath of my borrowed jacket. He leaned towards me and kissed my neck and trailed up to my ear.

"Want to try again?" he purred.

I grinned and locked my lips with Walter's. Without my robes, it was infinitely easier to undress, but there was still the matter of my weapons.

Walter's shirt and belt were off and somewhere else in the room. Walter had just managed to get all of my weapons, my jacket and was working on my shirt when we heard a knock at the door. I groaned and swore harshly, and (being the one still fully-dressed) opened the door.

"Room service," a young man said, gesturing to a tray on a cart.

"I didn't call for any," I replied.

"It has already been paid for," he assured me, and pushed the trolley into the room. "Have a nice day, miss."

When I closed the door behind him, I noted the message on the tray. Walter picked it up and read it while I inspected what was under the tray. Eggs and pancakes, as well as some sausages and juice.

Walter wrapped his arms around me and held the note in front of my eyes so I could read it.

_Have some breakfast on me._

_ But don't get too comfortable in that room. I would like to return to it with you fully-clothed._

_ W.M._

I crumpled the note in my hand. "Bill, you _bastard_..."

_**1229**_

I had settled in Alexandria as a courier. Using the skills I'd learned with the Assassins, I was the best around, and the fastest.

I had arrived months ago, and it was difficult to find a place to stay, but I had finally managed to locate my cousin, Ahdara. She allowed me to stay with her and her husband, Ghazi.

It was a reunion that I'd been looking forward to, more so when I learned of Ahdara's pregnancy.

She was already well along when I'd found her by about three months. Now, her baby would soon be due.

As I did every morning, I got dressed and went into the dining room. Ghazi was already seated at the head of the table, his eyes reading a notice that had been nailed to the door in the early hours of the morning. Ahdara soon came in, balancing plates on her arms, and placed them on the table.

"Thank-you," I said, tucking into the meal.

Once we'd all finished, I took their plates and excused myself to clean the dishes with the well water that Ghazi brought in every morning before he sat to read. He was a good man, very soft-spoken, but he was large in stature and worked the tougher tasks at the architect's.

I was glad Ahdara was with him. He'd surely protect her.

Once the dishes were cleaned, I threw my satchel over my shoulder and adjusted the uniform I had to wear. It was green with golden designs, and no white in sight.

I noticed Ahdara watching me while I adjusted my clothes in the mirror. She smiled and placed a hand on her swelled stomach, and then gasped as her hand was kicked off.

"It seems that he is quite the fighter," I remarked, rubbing her belly. "Aren't you, you little devil?"

"We decided on names," Ahdara told me.

"Oh?"

She nodded. "If they are a girl, Sahar. If they are a boy, Rami."

I grinned and rubbed her belly again. "Those are both good names. They will be happy with either one, one day."

"Ghazi wants a boy," she said. "He told me that if we have a boy first, then he can protect his future younger sister."

"A nice way of looking at it." I patted her stomach once more, felt a kick, and, satisfied, pulled away. "Well, I need to deliver these messages. I'll return at the usual time, okay?"

Ahdara nodded, and then pulled me into a hug. I had to attempt to get out of the baby's way.

"Do your best, Suna," she said.

I returned the hug and then patted her head. "I will. Oh! I nearly forgot..." I pulled away from Ahdara and sifted through my satchel, and then presented her with a letter. "One message for Ghazi and Ahdara Al-Nubi. Charge is breakfast."

Ahdara took the letter as she shook her head. "Really, Suna... Go to work! You'll be late!"

It felt good walking out the door into the sunshine of Alexandria. Really, it was a nice change, and I couldn't get enough of it.

_All right. On to deliver these messages._


	24. The Boy from the Mohawk

Chapter Twenty-Three:

The Boy from the Mohawk

_**1769**_

"You don't have to keep doing this, you know."

I smirked at Achilles and continued to brush the horse's mane. "Achilles, I _really_ don't mind."

"You've been here for too long, girl!" the old man argued, twisting his walking stick in the dirt. "You need to find something else to occupy yourself!"

"Really, Achilles!" I finished brushing the horse's mane and pet its neck. "I like it here. I'm comfortable here. For now, this is the only place I want to be!"

Achilles grumbled in defeat. "Well then, I hope you know that we're running low on supplies!"

"I can get those," I assured him. "Just write down what you need, and I'll take a trip up to Boston."

"Hmph." Achilles slowly hobbled back up to his manor and shut the door roughly behind him. I couldn't blame him for being in a bad mood; he'd already blamed himself for far too long.

After I left Kanatahséton, I had a job as a courier for a while before I settled with Achilles. During the time I'd been away from the Brotherhood, Haytham Kenway had drilled the Colonial Order down to its last man: Achilles. He'd surrendered the Brotherhood, and in exchange Haytham left him alive so he could care for his wife and son, Abigail and Connor.

But the two died of typhoid fever, and Achilles was left alone.

I looked at the beating sun in the sky and sighed. _A nap would be nice..._ I thought. _I probably won't even be heading into Boston until tomorrow..._

I walked into the stable and found a bed of hay. I flopped onto it and got comfortable, and then closed my eyes. It took a while, but I eventually fell into a blissful nap.

I woke up hours later and realized it was raining outside. Cursing, I ran out and brought the mare into the stables that I'd carelessly left outside. I sighed, shaking my soaking hair out, and heard a grunt.

_That, um, doesn't sound like a horse._

The grunt was quickly followed by snores. I followed the sound to one of the pens in the stable and found someone sleeping on a bedroll. He was wearing Kanien'kehá:ka clothing, and had the braids and dark skin to support that he was a Kanien'kehá:ka child. He had a strong build, and although he seemed tall, I could tell from his soft features that he was still just a boy.

"Hey," I said, gently tapping the floor beside his head.

The Kanien'kehá:ka boy grumbled and looked up at me. He paused, taking me in, and then hurried to stand.

"I... I am sorry," he said quickly. "I did not have another place to go. If you wish for me to leave this place—."

"Hold it!" He stopped grabbing his bedroll and looked at me. I couldn't figure out what the look in his eyes meant, so I crouched to be eye-level with him. "I was just making sure that you were comfortable. I know the old man can be a bit... boorish. I have some blankets that I usually give to the horses in winter, if you didn't mind?"

The boy quickly shook his head, and then nodded. I think he'd just shaken his head to properly assess what I'd said.

"Y-Yes," he replied, "thank-you."

I grabbed a blanket and handed it to him. His eyes widened at how large it was.

"My thanks," he said again.

"If you don't mind my asking," I said, "what're you doing here?"

He looked at the manor with a stern frown, and then gestured to it. "I came here because that old man refused to train me." He stopped and looked at me. I urged him with my hand to go on. "I received a vision, and the Clan Mother allowed me to leave in order to pursue its meaning. I was shown a symbol, and so I followed it. The spirit in my vision told me to receive training, but when I asked the old man, he shut the door in my face." The boy shrugged. "It became dark quickly, and began to rain, so I sought shelter here."

"You're not giving up?" I asked.

The boy frowned deeper and shook his head. "I will not give up so easily! I will stay here for as long as it takes. I _must_ find the answers to my vision!"

I shrugged. "Well, I'll speak to him. Perhaps he'll listen to me. I nag him enough, as it is."

The boy beamed at the offer. "Thank-you. If it isn't impolite, may I ask your name?"

I grinned at him and offered my hand. "Sara. Sara Taylor."

He clasped my hand with his own and shook it firmly, eagerly. "I am pleased to meet you, Sara Taylor. My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton."

I froze, and took him in as quickly as I could with my eyes. He looked less like the child I remembered, but… He was Ratonhnhaké:ton. Almost all grown up.

"Pleased to meet you," I replied, before leaving him for the manor as quickly as I could.

_**1229**_

It was my day off, and I was enjoying it immensely. I spent most of the day in the market, bartering for goods, and then the rest at home with Ahdara to keep an eye on her. Ghazi had gone to work, and Ahdara was due within a few weeks, so the baby was weighing her down a lot and she couldn't do the housework she wanted to. I, personally, didn't mind.

"Really, Suna," she assured me for the thousandth time, "you do not have to help—."

"I'll not hear that. You're about to have a baby, and you'll have a lot on your hands. I want to help," I told her. "Besides; Ghazi works for many hours in the day. I might as well make myself useful to you on my day off."

Ahdara slowly rubbed her belly and then smiled. "I'm going to have a baby, Suna."

"I was aware of that _months_ ago."

"No, Suna…" Ahdara ducked her head. "I'm going to have a _baby_. I'm going to be a _mother_."

I grinned and rubbed her belly. "I'm proud of you, cousin."

"So, when will you have your own?"

I froze at the question. "S-Sorry, what?"

"I am having my first quite late. If you wait too long, you won't have any. Don't our children need to play together sometime?"

I slowly began rubbing her belly again, pushing away the obvious answer. _Ahdara, I'm going to be like this for a very long time. I'm going to look like a child, maybe for forever. I can't do that to anyone..._

"I'm infertile," I lied quietly. "I cannot have children, regardless."

"I... I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'd be a terrible mother."

Ahdara frowned. "You can't say that for sure, Suna."

I sighed, closing my eyes. "Perhaps."

_**1769**_

"Sara! Sara, would you come in here a moment?!"

I rolled my eyes at Achilles' voice and entered the dining room, where both he and Ratonhnhaké:ton were seated in front of the fire. I raised an eyebrow at the old man, who shrugged.

"The boy is staying," he informed me. "Would you kindly show him to his room?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton stood eagerly, a triumphant smile plastered across his face. "Very well, Achilles," I said. "Ratonhnhaké:ton, come with me."

Ratonhnhaké:ton followed me out of the room, and I barely glimpsed Achilles as I left, who shook his head. Maybe he couldn't pronounce Ratonhnhaké:ton's name?

"I have seen the room downstairs," Ratonhnhaké:ton told me as we walked up the steps to the second floor. "Were you aware of it?"

"Of course," I answered. "I'm a part of the Order too, even though I'm taking a long-awaited break."

Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes widened. "You are?! So you can help me to train as well?!"

I paused, and then opened the door to Ratonhnhaké:ton's new room, gesturing to get him inside. "If Achilles decides it, I suppose." He nodded, and then explored his room. "Ratonhnhaké:ton, I usually have breakfast ready at eight. Achilles, I'm sure, will let you sleep until then. Every other morning, he'll probably get you out of bed as early as five to train or to tasks. Enjoy sleep while you can."

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded again. "Thank-you, Sara Taylor."

I offered him a smile. "Of course, Ratonhnhaké:ton. You're welcome."

In the morning, I had breakfast ready and placed three plates on the dining room table. Achilles slowly shuffled in and took his usual seat at the head of the table. He was always dressed and ready for the day in the mornings. I'd rarely ever even glimpsed the man in his long johns.

"Is the boy up yet?" Achilles asked when he lifted his fork.

I waited to hear a sound, but shook my head when I did not. "I'll go," I assured him.

Achilles made a grunting noise as I left the room. I hurried up the stairs and knocked on Ratonhnhaké:ton's door, and waited for a reaction. When none came, I opened the door.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton?" I called softly. I looked over to his bed and found that it was made. Had he gone to relieve himself? He had a habit of going when either Ziio or I were going to wake him up.

I hurried down the steps and to the back door; the quickest way to the outhouse. But I bumped into Ratonhnhaké:ton as I stepped outside, burying my face into rabbit carcasses.

I leapt backwards and hastily wiped the blood off of my face. Ratonhnhaké:ton stood there, looking both shocked and guilty. By the time I regarded him, he was blushing, and thrust the rabbits towards me.

"I-I had gone scouting around the area," he admitted. "I found some game, and I had noticed last night that you were short on hares. This place is teeming with life."

I took the rabbits from him. "Yes, it is. Breakfast is ready in the dining room, so sit yourself down!"

Ratonhnhaké:ton hurried into the house and the dining room while I took the rabbits to the kitchen. _I'll deal with them after breakfast,_ I thought as I joined the two men.

"Boy," Achilles said, "we'll begin today with studies on the history of the Brotherhood. Tomorrow, you'll wake up early to help Sara with tasks around the Homestead. After breakfast, more studies, and then after dinner we'll begin the physical part of your training."

"Why not just begin the physical part as soon as possible? I must become stronger."

"Strength is divided into two things, Ratonhnhaké:ton," I interjected. "Strength of the mind, and strength of the body. You will surely meet your end if only one of these things are met. With both, you'll truly become strong."

Ratonhnhaké:ton stared at me for a time before Achilles chuckled. "It is as she says, boy. Here is your _first_ lesson: the women in her family are _always_ right."

I smirked at Achilles' words. "You flatter me, old man."

"Will Sara Taylor also be aiding in my lessons and training?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

Achilles looked from me to Ratonhnhaké:ton, a thoughtful look on his face. "She could," he answered, "but it all depends on your progression, and how much she is willing to teach."

Ratonhnhaké:ton looked at me expectantly. I frowned at him. "Eat your breakfast," I grumbled.

He ducked his head, much like he had almost ten years ago. "Yes, Sara Taylor."

"It's just 'Sara'. It's okay to call me that."

"Yes..." Ratonhnhaké:ton hesitated. "Yes, Sara."


	25. Captured by the Enemy

Chapter Twenty-Four:

Captured by the Enemy

_**1770**_

"Since this is your first trip to Boston, here's a few little tips..." Ratonhnhaké:ton looked at me expectantly as he sat in the carriage. "Don't stare at people. Try to find something for your eyes to take in rather than the people, because staring is considered rude. If you must look at a person, pretend you're not."

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded. "I will try."

"Also, no grabbing things that are on display. You've been to Concord before, right?" He nodded again, and I smiled in response. "Good. It's the same rules. Also, if you _must_ take something that isn't yours, try to reimburse the person you took it from. As far as pickpocketing goes, you likely won't be able to pay them back, but try to take from those who dress gaudily. They have lots of money that they have no use for." I pointed at him. "Sometimes, there are beggar children. What you want to do with them is try to give them a bit of coin without anyone else noticing. They sometimes make lots of noise to draw others' attention and put more pressure on you, but if you do it quickly then you can avoid a bad situation."

"What kind of a bad situation?" he asked.

"For example, if you're tailing someone, or if you're pickpocketing something. You don't want attention drawn to yourself, so ignoring the children can have repercussions. Also, try to blend into the crowds. You're going to stick out like a sore thumb in that outfit, so try to exude a sense of belonging. If you stare at people, you're obviously not a Bostonian. If you walk too close to people, you're obviously not a Bostonian. Walk like you belong there, but don't put your nose to the air. Be respectful, even if others are not. Set an example."

Once more, Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded. "I will try, Sara. Are you not coming?"

I shook my head. "No. There are some chores I need to do around the house yet. And Achilles wants me to cook something for when you two return. The old man _hates_ his own cooking..."

Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled. "We will return shortly, Sara. And hopefully, we will repair this place."

"I'm looking forward to it. Lord knows it needs it..." I caught Ratonhnhaké:ton smirking at me, so I gently tapped his cheek. "What's with that face?"

"No reason," he said, his smirk still firmly in place.

I shook my head, and Achilles appeared. "Well then, we'd best head to Boston now. It could get busy later on."

"Safe trip, Achilles," I said as I helped him into the buggy.

Achilles tapped his walking stick against the roof to signal the driver. "Ten pounds says that it's business as usual, Sara."

I grinned. "You'll regret betting with me, old man."

"I highly doubt it."

_**2012**_

My eyes opened very slowly to a bight light hanging over my head. It swung slowly, illuminating and then darkening the further corner of the room. The walls, steel-grey and drab, surrounded me on all sides. A single door to the room was across from me.

I tried to get up, but then realized that I was handcuffed to a metal table and seated in a cold, metallic chair. My jacket, my weapons, and my wallet were gone (the last being of little-to-no concern), and I was left in only my Avenger's T-shirt and jeans (sneakers too, but what kidnappers ever take _shoes_?).

I only had to wait about ten minutes before the door opened. A man in a white labcoat with thinning grey-white hair, and a full beard of the same colour entered, shutting the door quietly behind him. He carried nothing in his hands, and regarded me with dark brown eyes.

I'd glimpsed him once or twice when I had began my adventure with Desmond, and then once more when he and his Abstergo Agents attacked our hideout.

Warren Vidic.

"I don't think we've formally met," Vidic said as he sat in the chair on the opposite side of the table. "I am Warren Vidic, head of the Animus project and genetic research at Abstergo."

"Charmed," I replied, and then tugged on the handcuffs. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm occupied."

"Don't hurt yourself trying." Warren clasped his hands together on the table. "Do you remember how you got here?"

I didn't very well. It was all difficult to grasp, but I remembered that Bill, Walter and I had walked into the Cairo Museum to recover the power source when there was a bright flash of light... and a large explosion...

"I take it 'here' isn't Egypt?" I prompted.

"Correct." Vidic smirked under his beard. It almost reminded me of the one Altair had later in his life. "You're back in Italy, Miss Warner. At Abstergo."

"_Great_."

Vidic and I sat in silence for a while. He seemed to be gauging me, trying to get into my seventeen-year-old mind. Old fart.

"Miss Warner," Vidic began, "I heard about your brothers."

"_Leave them out of this_!" I hissed.

"I wanted you to know that the death of Tyler was not under my orders. Daniel erred."

"_You think I give a damn whether or not your Templar lackey had the orders to kill him or not_?!"

Vidic paused. "I understand your hostility, Miss Warner, but it will get you nowhere. You understand the goal of the Templars?"

I took a deep breath to calm down, the deaths of my brothers still fresh in my mind... still just as painful. "Of course I do," I replied. "Peace. It's also the goal of the Assassins."

"Then you'll understand my offer." I frowned. "Our respective Orders have been quarrelling for far too long, Miss Warner. We would get so much more done if we just united. After all, your Brotherhood is crumbling. It would be better to join something larger and more well-funded than your own organization, am I right?"

"You want me to betray the Order?"

"No. The opposite." Vidic leaned forward. "I want our Orders to join, and shape a new world, guide its people together!"

I shook my head, disappointed. "Vidic, that'll never work. I fight for peace, yes, but it's peace through freedom that I strive for. You want control over the people, and that isn't freedom. That's why our Orders fight against each other. Your goal is far from evil, Vidic; the means of which you would achieve it is."

"Is there a 'good' and 'evil' in this world?" Vidic asked. "You cling to the shadows, thrusting a blade into people's backs when they get in your way. You say you fight for the people, but isn't your blade piercing their flesh?"

"I simply seek peace, in all things. The first tenet of my creed: 'Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent'."

Smirking, Vidic said, "That is the tenet that Altair had to learn the hard way."

"It is the tenet that my father taught me, as well as the other two, and the true meaning of the Assassin's Creed."

Vidic smiled and stood from his seat. "Did you know, Miss Warner, that there's been an Assassin legend floating around for nearly a thousand years?" When I didn't respond, Vidic continued, "The legend of Suna of the Shadow-Step. An accomplished killer. An accomplished Assassin. Truly, one looked up to by all Assassins." Vidic paused again. "And, which will surprise you, Templars as well."

"I'm not familiar with the legend. I'm usually too busy to listen to delusional fantasies."

"It's not 'delusional'. She was a real Assassin, though she's been obscured throughout history. She was the first in a long line of those dubbed 'Shadow-Step', and she was truly the best in her catagory." Vidic tapped the table. "The title has been passed down through the ages. And now, it has fallen to you."

"It's a pretty dumb nickname, if you ask me," I grumbled.

"You wouldn't believe the uproar Abstergo was in once we realized that the Shadow-Step was in our custody," Vidic said.

I sighed. "Where the hell are you going with this?"

"You, Miss Warner," Vidic responded, "are a waste. A waste of talent that could have truly brought the world to peace. And I wanted you to know that in this room, your title means _nothing_."

I leaned forward. "Lemme tell you a secret, Vidic!" He glared at me. I smiled. "Fuck you."

Vidic frowned, and then knocked on the door. "We're done here," he announced.

Two Abstergo guards entered, their blue uniforms looking nice and new, and they dragged me out of the room. I was escorted down the narrow halls of the company until I was completely lost in the maze of a building, and then I was shoved into another small room.

"Sara!" My eyes widened as I heard Walter's voice. I hurried to where I heard it, but saw nothing. Only a wall. "It's a window, Sara!"

_A one-way mirror..._ I looked back at the door to see Vidic waving at me.

Then he looked to his side. "Gas the room," he instructed.

"_NO_!" I screamed, rushing back to the door and smashing my body against it as it locked. It didn't budge.

"Not _his_ room, Miss Warner," Vidic told me from an intercom. "_Yours_."

I immediately heard a hissing sound above me, and I began to cough, my heart burning with intense pain and my eyes watering. My lungs seemed to cease, and withdraw within themselves.

It felt like I was going to die.


	26. Subject Seventeen

Chapter Twenty-Five:

Subject Seventeen

_**1230**_

"Ghazi hasn't returned home yet..." Ahdara sighed as she slowly lifted Rami from his cradle and brought the babe close to herself. "He isn't usually this late..."

"Perhaps he had a late shift?" I suggested as I set the table.

Ahdara sank slowly into one of the seats at the table and gently bounced Rami. He gurgled in delight. I grinned at him, and offered him one of my fingers, which he grasped with his tiny fingers.

Smiling, Ahdara handed him over to me, and I took him for a walk around the table before I kissed his forehead and handed him back. He smelt just like Darim and Sef had when they were babies, I noted.

"I hate to ask this of you, Suna," Ahdara said as she gently placed Rami's head in the crook of her arm, "but would you go ask him how much longer he intends to take?"

I nodded. "I can. He's working on that temple, right?"

"There or at the docks," Ahdara affirmed. "Take your time. Rami and I will be here."

I gave both Rami and Ahdara a kiss on the forehead before I left the home. I decided that the temple was closest, so that was where I headed first. Men were heaving rocks, painfully dragging them closer to the temple, but I saw no sign of Ghazi.

"Excuse me," I said, interrupting one of the men, "but is Ghazi here?"

He glanced at me and then shook his head. "No. He... He was called to meet a client at the docks."

"Thank-you," I replied, hurrying to the docks.

The docks were large, so it would be difficult to rightly decide where Ghazi was. I had searched for ten minutes before I reached the end of the docks, but I hadn't seen him. In fact, anyone I asked replied that they hadn't seen a man like him.

I stopped to scratch my head. Where could Ghazi have gone? He was usually on time when he came back home, and if he was late, he would have a messenger tell us.

I groaned as I thought, my stomach rumbling a bit, and turned my eyes to the direction of the ships in port. Families were coming off of them, but there was no Ghazi to help them with their luggage or supplies. He wasn't even speaking with the ship captains.

"Where are you, Ghazi…?" I whispered.

Sighing, I slumped into a nearby bench and rubbed my eyes. Perhaps I'd just missed him. Perhaps he was already at home and they were all waiting for me. Standing, I began to hurry back to the house. I hoped he was there.

"Hey!" Someone grabbed hold of my arm. I whirled around, my fist ready to fly into their face, but I stopped myself. His hair was greying, but he was clean-shaven and very little wrinkles on his face. "Suna. I thought it was you."

_Darim_.

Darim in _white_.

I yanked my arm out of his grasp, my chest rising erratically as I tried to get myself under control—tried to push away the memories of Abbas, Swami, and the dungeon—.

"Sister?"

I rested my head in my hands, avoiding his gaze and his form. If I didn't look, he may as well have been wearing black. "Darim," I responded. "W-What are you doing here?"

He motioned something. People came and stood beside him. I could already recognize them, so I pulled the hood I wore further down my face automatically.

"Father has become… difficult," Darim admitted quietly. "I came to help them settle."

"Auntie!" one of the girls screeched. She was probably just around her teens now. I hadn't seen her since before we left for Mongolia, and she was just a baby then.

I knelt and hugged Sef's second child, squeezing her for good measure, and then opened one of my arms to embrace the first of Sef's children.

"Hello Hala, Junah," I greeted silently. "It is good to see you again."

"I missed you, Auntie," Hala mumbled into my shoulder. "I wanted to visit you."

Junah nodded. Despite being the eldest, she was the quietest one. I looked up, blocking out the image of my brother in white, and smiled at Sef's widow, Rahaf. She had dark eyes and tanned skin, and black hair that was always tied back. She smiled back, albeit weakly.

"What do you mean 'difficult', Darim?" I asked, returning my eyes to the dirt. "About our father?"

"He…" Darim paused. "Mother's death has driven him into a deep sadness. Now, he never lets that accursed artifact out of his sight. He spends many days at a time in his room with it, asking it questions. He tries to understand it, but in understanding it, he understands less and less of himself."

I nodded slowly, and released my nieces.

"I was hoping that you could talk sense into him," my brother admitted.

I shook my head, sighing. "You know I cannot, Darim. Not as I am."

"But—!"

"I cannot," I repeated. "I'm sorry, brother, but I just can't."

I kissed the top of Hala and Junah's heads, hugged Rahaf, and then squeezed my eyes shut as I hugged my brother, and even gave him a kiss on the forehead for good measure.

"I'm sorry, Darim," I muttered, and then returned to Ahdara's home.

_**1770**_

"Achilles? Where's Ratonhnhaké:ton?" I asked, peeking my head into the old man's room.

"Connor is still in Boston," Achilles replied as he continued to write a letter, dabbing his quill in ink as he did. "Haytham Kenway was there. As was Charles Lee. They incited something, and we were separated."

I blinked. "Um… 'Connor'?" I repeated.

Achilles had a ghost of a smile on his face. "I can't pronounce his name for the life of me. 'Boy' isn't going to suffice if he's staying with us. So, I've taken to calling him 'Connor'."

"You haven't told him that Connor was the name of your son, have you?"

"No, and I trust you will not." The old man leaned back in his chair after placing his quill into the vat of ink. "It is simply easier on me."

I smirked. "Achilles, he can just check the graves outside."

"He could, but he's quite enamoured with your training," Achilles retorted. "Regardless, Sam Adams is teaching him about the ways of the city and how to avoid notice. Connor will return soon."

"Do you _at least_ have my supplies?" I asked him, crossing my arms.

Achilles sipped some of the tea he had brewed. "Of course I did," he replied. "Connor bought it before that little outbreak."

"Excellent," I said dryly. "He's not going to be happy, you know."

"I am aware. But the experience will be invaluable to him. Especially so with the advice you gave him and the commotion in Boston."

I shook my head and left the room. As I began to make some soup for Ratonhnhaké:ton's return, I smirked to myself. He'd be angry, yes, but then he'd see the reason behind Achilles' actions. And afterward, he'd ask for more training so he wouldn't be caught unawares again.

_**2012**_

The sting of the gas burned my lungs and my eyes to a point where I just curled up on the floor and wished to die. But when it seemed like I would, I'd somehow inhale oxygen and the torture would begin all over again.

It had been _hours_. I could hear someone laughing over the intercom. I was certain that it wasn't Vidic, because he was busying himself with Bill.

Bill... It had been my fault we were captured. It _had_ to be. But... No. No, we'd had no chance against the Templars. They were ready for us. In the museum, they had it cleared out, and stormed every exit and window. Their leader ordered an open-fire. We'd gotten into cover, but we were captured. I'd spied Bill sending a quick message to Desmond... Maybe I was wrong about Bill.

Our transfer to Italy was blurred by drugs and sedatives. The last thing I could clearly remember was the needle.

"Shut it down," I heard someone order over the intercom. "She's got to be dead by now."

I was in pain—pain I'd never experienced before, but I slowed my drastic breathing and waited patiently on the floor. _Play dead,_ I thought. _Play dead, Suna..._

Suddenly, there was a rustling over the intercom. I peeled my eyes open as wide as I dared in order to focus.

"Shit!" someone yelled from the corridor. "Seventeen! It's _seventeen_! He's fucking here!"

"Get your gun! Stop him!" another hollered.

_Desmond?_

Somebody opened the door to the room I resided in and hurried over to me. They'd be transferring Walter and I somewhere else to keep us away from Desmond. I pretended to be weak—pretended to be dead, actually. They didn't bother to check as they began dragging me out of there. I risked cracking a smile as I breathed in the fresh air of the corridor, and then waited for Walter to be dragged beside me.

We were going to escape. _All_ of us.

This would be the end of Warren Vidic and the Animus project.

I swore it on my life.


	27. The Cult of the Sun

Chapter Twenty-Six:

The Cult of the Sun

_**1230**_

I opened the door to Ahdara's home and poked my head in. Ahdara hadn't moved. I frowned, my brow furrowing.

"He's not here?" I asked.

Ahdara had placed Rami in his cradle while I was gone, it seemed, because he was no longer in her arms. She shook her head and held her face in her hands. "Where is Ghazi...?" she wondered aloud.

"I'll keep looking," I assured her, and then left the house.

I spent hours searching for Ghazi. I looked all over Alexandria, but he was nowhere to be found.

I didn't even head home immediately. I sat down on the curb and rubbed my eyes. Ghazi would not up and leave. He would have said something...

Ghazi didn't leave. I was certain that he was in trouble. My gut ached unpleasantly as I thought of rescuing him. I had no weapons whatsoever. If I wanted to help him, I would have to head to the Assassins' Alexandrian base. It was a temple not far from my location, but my problem was that the Assassins were there.

But Ghazi was more important than my fears. Clenching my fists, I stood and began the march to the Assassin hideout.

My palms were clammy by the time I reached it. My forehead, drenched in sweat. The walk had been no trouble; it was the thought of having to face what was to come. I swallowed a lump in my throat and took a strained, shaky breath as I raised a fist at the door and knocked. If memory served, the code I'd knocked would suffice.

I waited only a moment before the door opened slightly, allowing the light from inside to pour out into the night. I stepped in and shut it behind me.

Everyone I saw was wearing white.

I averted my gaze as the one who opened the door regarded me. My fear was pathetic, I knew, but I felt like I would lose myself if I looked up.

"Yes?" the man asked.

I gulped. "I am here to see Darim," I murmured.

The man rubbed his chin (or a beard on his chin, but I couldn't tell). "I will retrieve him," he announced, and then bade me to wait by the door.

I shuffled my feet as I waited. My breaths were erratic, and I think a few Assassins noticed, but they kept their distance. I eventually heard Darim come around the corner. I knew it was him. I knew his walk, and his pace, and the amount of weight he put on each foot. It was Darim, beyond any doubt.

"Suna? What are you doing here?" Darim asked as he approached.

I very hesitantly turned my eyes upwards to look at him. The sight of the white Assassin robes shook me, but I clenched my fists again and willed it away.

"Ghazi is missing," I told him quietly, keeping my eyes locked with his. "Ahdara's husband did not return home. He _always_ returns."

Darim paused. "What does Ghazi do?" he asked.

"He works for an architect. He's a heavy-lifter—." I stopped myself when something in Darim's eyes told me he knew something. "Darim?" I prompted.

Darim turned away from me. I shook at the sight of his robes, but tried to hold myself together. I felt as if I were a fine glass to shatter at any given moment.

"The Assassins here, for the past few months, have tried to coordinate an attack on a fanatic group called the 'Cult of the Sun'," Darim said as he faced me once more. "They were a group back in Imhotep's time that worshipped Ra. However, they were extremists. Imhotep himself spearheaded them at one point. They believed the triangle to be the shape of ascension and power, as the sun's rays make such a shape. And being that Imhotep was the architect who created the Pyramid of Djoser, it makes sense that the Cult of the Sun was behind the pyramids."

"But that means that this cult of yours is nearly three-thousand years old!" I exclaimed. "What does this have to do with Ghazi?!"

Darim looked grave. "The Templars here have revived it. They've recruited fanatics to lead it, but pups who come at their beck and call. They are sifting through the desert to discover a powerful artefact for their use. In fact, they already have one in possession, and this is why the Assassins here have been cautious. They have learned from Masyaf's mistakes."

"So they are using Ghazi by wielding this Piece of Eden?!"

Darim nodded. "It must be so. Many of those workers have gone missing. I had hoped to help the Assassins here once I found lodging for Rahaf, Hala and Junah, but the first day has proven difficult."

I paused. I knew what Darim was about to ask of me.

"Suna," Darim said quietly, "it is not the cloth you fear, but the men who wear it—the men who hurt you and put you through that Hell. Donning it again proves that Abbas can beat you down, but you will always stand back up to face him." Darim smiled weakly. "That is what being an Assassin is all about, is it not? Didn't you teach me that, Suna, when we were young and the worst punishment you could give me was a kiss on my cheeks?"

I smirked, remembering how he had struggled when I would catch him misbehaving. "Yes."

"Then, sister, _prove_ it. Our enemy is far greater than a nation—far more powerful than a hundred-thousand men to one. But we are Assassins. We will protect the innocent, and free the minds of men, delivering peace." He put a hand on my shoulder. "We can do it, Suna! Together!"

I chuckled, and slid my hand onto his shoulder as well, ignoring the goosebumps I received from touching the white cloth. "How wilful this woman of yours must be to have whipped you, brother."

Darim snorted. "I have no woman, sister. Only 'friends'."

"One of the reasons I will surely hurt you for, I'm sure. You could have a child and not even know it!"

Snorting, my brother replied, "Yes, _that_ will be the day! If my fraternizations have borne fruit, you have every permission to haunt me."

"I shall do so, Darim."

_**1772**_

Two long years passed in a blur. Ratonhnhaké:ton's training progressed well, and his body was beginning to show for it. He wasn't scrawny when he came, but he was by no means fit for the type of operations the Assassins carried out.

Now though, he was largely muscled. His nose was straight and his cheekbones were prominent on his face, as was his jaw. A few walks through Boston with him, and I had noticed a few of the colony women swooning. But I knew their thoughts: "If only he wasn't a Native."

Ratonhnhaké:ton was very dedicated, but he would sometimes explode with anger or frustration. I knew him well though; all he wanted was to get things right as quickly as possible and move onto the next thing to learn. He wasn't like that when we were hunting together, so I would just need to teach him the patience that came along with being an Assassin.

Despite Achilles (and everyone else from the colonies) calling Ratonhnhaké:ton "Connor", I decided to continue calling him by his given name. I think he took a small comfort from that. I knew how he felt about changing names. Having at least one person calling you by your real name gave you a sense that you knew who you were. Changing that name sometimes blotted out your goal as you shifted into the role that your name gave you.

In the past two years, settlers had begun to find their way to Davenport Homestead. A huntress, lumberers, a miner, and a woodworker (or carpenter... whatever the hell they're called in this age!) had appeared so far, and Ratonhnhaké:ton seemed to be getting friendly with others. He informed me that there would likely be some farmers coming soon. Achilles complained of the noise, but I figured that the old man was happy for the newfound company.

On that particular day, I had given Ratonhnhaké:ton a break from training to allow him to do whatever he wished. I guessed that he'd be heading to Boston to take a few simple contracts that I had readied for him or head to his village to visit Kanen'tó:kon and Oiá:ner.

Instead, Ratonhnhaké:ton returned to the homestead sweating like an animal. He stalked into the kitchen to see what I had decided to cook and then lumbered up the steps to the bath. I shook my head, smiling, and continued to cook. I had _definitely_ gotten better at it since Ratonhnhaké:ton was small.

I had been so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice Ratonhnhaké:ton sneak around me and grab a stick of celery from the cutting board. On the bright side, he was eating his vegetables. He was only sixteen, after all.

"Don't spoil your dinner," I told him as he took a massive bite of it.

After he finished chewing, Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled. "I am sorry, Sara. I was simply very hungry and could not wait."

"If you were Achilles, I'd take your walking stick and beat you with it."

Ratonhnhaké:ton laughed, his dark eyes twinkling with the familiar light Ziio had once had in her eyes. "Are you certain? The old man is very attached to that stick of his."

"Indeed." I grinned and offered Ratonhnhaké:ton a piece of the pheasant I was roasting. "What do you think?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton, having already finished the celery, popped the pheasant into his mouth and chewed it slowly. "It could do with more seasoning," he admitted.

I nodded. "I thought so too. Can you pass that container there?"

"Of course." Ratonhnhaké:ton handed the small shaker to me, and I applied it to the pheasant. It took me a moment, but I realized that Ratonhnhaké:ton's wet hair was dripping onto the counter.

I groaned. "Ratonhnhaké:ton, you didn't dry your hair properly."

Blushing, Ratonhnhaké:ton put a hand on top of his head. "I am sorry," he said, and then retreated to grab a towel.

I put my hands on my hips and watched him go, and then laughed at the image I had created. _I never used to wear an apron,_ I thought, _but I got tired of rubbing grease out of my clothes..._

The apron thought got me laughing about how I would look as a housewife. In London, particularly. With Walter. Walter, who would probably steal celery just as well and laugh just as brightly as Ratonhnhaké:ton...

"What is on your mind?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

I jumped, startled by his sudden appearance, and accidentally pressed my hand against the hot coil on the stove. I cried out in pain and clutched my hand close to me. Ratonhnhaké:ton immediately grabbed a bucket of water and thrust my hand into it. It dulled the pain, but I clenched my jaw nonetheless.

"Are you all right?!" he asked. "I am sorry! I should have announced myself—!"

I shook my head, taking a deep breath to forget about the instant pain. "N-No... I was just thinking too deeply on things my mind shouldn't be lingering on."

Ratonhnhaké:ton went silent. He was already taller than me, his shoulders broad with muscle from training, and even with his head hung he still towered over me.

"Don't fret," I told him. "A little salve will have my hand well again in no time."

"What if I have scarred it?" he asked feebly.

I tapped Ratonhnhaké:ton's right cheek, where a scar that I had accidentally given him rested along his cheekbone. "Then we'd be even, wouldn't we?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton cracked a smile. "You pushed me onto my backside."

"And you carried me like a sack of potatoes. I was justified."

Ratonhnhaké:ton snorted, and then peeked into the clear water of the bucket, but I managed to get his attention away from it by asking him to watch the pheasant while I went to get a few bandages. He didn't need to know that I had already healed.

By noon, dinner was ready. Achilles opted to eat in his room to finish a few reports while Ratonhnhaké:ton and I sat on the porch upstairs to enjoy the good weather with the good meal. Ratonhnhaké:ton ate about as much as the sailors of the _Aquila_, but his appetite was healthy and I was glad for it.

When he finished, Ratonhnhaké:ton laid back in his chair and propped his hands comfortably behind his head, sighing in contentment. We enjoyed the presence of each other rather than speaking. We both preferred it that way. Small talk was pointless, and knowing that another was there was enough for us.

"What were you thinking about earlier?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked after we had observed a squirrel climbing a tree. "I have never seen you so deep in thought before."

I sighed. I thought he'd forgotten. "I was thinking about my life... before."

"'Before'?" the youth repeated.

I shrugged uselessly. "Before America. Before the colonies. It was during the Seven Years' War, if I remember correctly. At the beginning."

"That is a long time ago."

I smirked. "I'm older than I look, Ratonhnhaké:ton."

He looked over at me and smiled thinly, nervously. "I find that hard to believe, Sara. Were you young then? A child?"

I laughed, and then stood up and picked up out plates. "I'm going to wash these, and then this evening we'll pay a visit to some of the settlers. I think we should survey the land for those farmers you have coming."

"I think I know where to have them," Ratonhnhaké:ton said. "There is open land that needs tilling, but I will help them with that. I will need to know how much land they intend to farm on."

"They'll tell you," I assured him. "Our first priority should be to get them lodgings. A barn, too. So, we'll have them come and pick the land, and we'll get building there."

"Lance, Terry and Godfrey can provide the materials necessary."

"And what will we do about money?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton grinned as we walked down the steps. When we reached the kitchen, he procured a pouch and shook it. It jingled with unspent coin. "I have won another bout with the Boston Brawlers. I am certain I can pay whatever they ask," he said confidently.

"That's good, because I haven't stopped at the bank in a while." I put the dishes in the large bucket in the kitchen and bent to lift it, but Ratonhnhaké:ton beat me to it. He grinned triumphantly and led us outside to where we usually washed the dishes. I stopped in Achilles' room on the way to pick up his plate.

"My heart soars to see so many people so happy," Ratonhnhaké:ton admitted. "I am glad to see such a community begin to prosper. These people will be proof that we can live united, as neighbours and friends without words and labels to divide us."

"It is not the labels that divide us; it is the belief in them." Ratonhnhaké:ton looked back at me. I smiled at him. "Just put the bucket down here. I'll wash and watch you throw your tomahawk into that tree there."

"I have improved since you saw me last, Sara," Ratonhnhaké:ton said.

"Good; show me."


	28. Those Lazy Days

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Those Lazy Days

_**1772**_

"Mister Faulkner, loose all the sails," Ratonhnhaké:ton ordered his first mate.

The grizzled former-captain of the _Aquila_ nodded and took a deep breath. "Release all sails, boys! Let's catch that wind!"

I grinned as the ship lurched, picking up speed. We'd be back to Davenport Homestead in a week at the most. My hand wound into the rigging as old memories poured back, but they were good ones. After all, serving under Edward Kenway was a good memory in itself.

"Cap'n!" Both Ratonhnhaké:ton and I looked at the sailor, who pointed to the cliffs. "The gulls!"

I had to squint and climb more of the rigging, but I noticed the seagulls crying out and beating their wings for a quick escape.

Ratonhnhaké:ton turned his eyes upward. "What say you in the Crow's Nest?!" he hollered.

The sailor at the top of the ship in the Crow's Nest smashed his telescope onto his eye. "I see sails, sir! An ambush!"

"Templars!" Ratonhnhaké:ton cursed in his native tongue. "Mister Faulkner, do you suppose they have seen us yet?"

Faulker shook his head. "I doubt it, Cap'n. They'll wait for the _Aquila_ to get into view before firing, as well." He pointed to the cliffs again. "My advice would be to pull along those cliffs and hide 'er. You can trek across the cliffs come nightfall and ambush the enemy."

Ratonhnhaké:ton turned his gaze to the horizon, where the sun was already setting. He deliberated for a moment, and then nodded. "Your plan is sound," he commented, "and I will be taking Sara with me."

Faulker snorted and shook his head. "Bad enough you brought a woman on the _Aquila_ lad, but now you're bringing her for a raid?"

"I resent that!" I called back to them.

Ratonhnhaké:ton laughed, and then shook his head at Faulkner. "Sara has taught me a great deal of what I know as an Assassin. She is an ideal choice for a stealth attack by land."

Faulkner shrugged. "You're the Cap'n, lad."

"I assure you that everything will turn in our favour." Ratonhnhaké:ton studied the cliffs with his dark eyes as the _Aquila_ sidled along them. "Do you suppose a scouting party will appear over those cliffs when we do not appear?"

"I suppose so, boy." Faulkner rubbed his greyed beard. "It'd be wise to capture 'em quietly. I'll send some o' the boys onto shore with you."

"I would be grateful for that, Mister Faulkner." Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded to me as the sailors dropped anchor and stabilized the ship so she wouldn't hit the jagged rocks of the cliff. "I will scout ahead for possible ambushes. Mister Faulkner, please ensure that the men you send on shore will speak with Sara beforehand."

"Aye, Cap'n." The old sailor locked his gaze with mine and then began shouting orders to a few of the men.

I hopped from the ship's rigging as Ratonhnhaké:ton changed from his captain's outfit into the Assassin robes he inherited from Achilles. I found it odd that his robes had so much blue on them, but it worked for him. I'd been used to the red and white for so long, I supposed it was time for a change.

I decided to continue wearing the robes that Ziio had made for me years ago, before Ratonhnhaké:ton's birth. It had a few tweaks, like less fur and a bit more modesty, but it was, essentially, the same, beaked hood and all.

"Connor!" Faulkner called as the youth vaulted over the railing of the _Aquila_ and onto the cliffs. "Be careful, lad! The _Aquila_ and her crew still need a cap'n!"

"That is why you are first mate, Mister Faulkner!" Ratonhnhaké:ton called back. He looked at me, waved, and then began to scale the cliffs. "I will be back shortly. Await my signal if there is an ambush coming too soon, or I am in need of aid."

"Will do," I replied, playfully saluting him. He grinned and continued to scale.

Eventually, Faulkner got four men of the motley crew of sailors armed and ready to ambush the Templars. These men were the only ones able to climb the cliffs with guns in hand or slung over their shoulders, and they looked well-enough in the fighting department, so I shook each of their hands and began climbing.

We reached the top of the cliff and silently snuck into the woods, using the bushes as cover. We didn't know who was out watching, but anyone could be, even if it was just Ratonhnhaké:ton.

I stopped the men as we descended further into the brush. Our trek upwards would soon end, and we'd begin to descend to the other side, where the enemy ship laid in wait.

"D'you see the Cap'n?" one of the men behind me asked.

I scanned the trees quickly and shook my head. "He's gone farther ahead. Perhaps he noticed something?"

"Well, there be no ambushes yet, and for that I'm thankful."

"Indeed." We only took a few steps more before I halted them again. "Sh!"

We waited in the bushes as we listened to the sounds of footsteps approaching. Eventually, a troop of five men came over the hill and marched towards the _Aquila_. I motioned for the men to get behind them once they passed. The first three were taken down silently, but the second-last's call wasn't muffled. The officer leading them whirled around and shouted just as my hidden blade punctured his throat, killing him.

Dragging our kills out of sight, we hurried forward. Ratonhnhaké:ton hadn't called us yet. There was a sinking hole in my stomach as I realized that the further we went, the less I saw of any disturbances in the brush or the trees, which meant that Ratonhnhaké:ton had likely gone off the trail...

"Something's wrong," I said quietly. "Stay here. I'll go ahead. If you hear fighting, join in. I don't care if you have to shoot your weapons to alert everyone, just be careful about it!"

"Aye, ma'am," a sailor complied.

I hurried out of the brush and scaled a tree, jumping from one to the other in a flash. I eventually settled at the edge of the cliff, but I was concealed generously behind some leaves. I spied a figure in white at mid-deck on his knees, his hands bound behind him and hood thrown off his head, revealing ebony hair. _Ratonhnhaké:ton..._

"I ask you again, _savage_..." The captain of the Templar ship knelt to Ratonhnhaké:ton's level, throwing his tri-corn hat to one of the sailors so it wouldn't get in his way. "Where are your people? Who trained you to use those weapons?!"

Ratonhnhaké:ton was silent and stared straight ahead, denying the captain any hint that he even understood what he'd said. I grinned, but the smile vanished from my face when the captain drew his pistol and smashed the butt of the weapon into the side of Ratonhnhaké:ton's head. Ratonhnhaké:ton shook his head to clear it, and the crew members grabbed his shoulders to straighten him once more.

"Your hands are soft," Ratonhnhaké:ton said as I leapt from the tree branch and onto the mainmast, procuring a throwing knife and lodging it into the throat of the sailor in the Crow's Nest. "You seem used to others doing your work for you. Have you ever broken the will of a man by your own strength?"

"I don't answer to you!" the captain sneered as I traversed the rigging to the mizzenmast. He cocked his gun and pressed the barrel against Ratonhnhaké:ton's head. "Now, one last time, _boy_! _Where are the other Assassins_?!"

Ratonhnhaké:ton smirked at the captain. "Me and mine are on top of you, captain."

I leapt from the mast, unleashing my hidden blades, and landed on top of both the first mate and the captain, sinking the blades into their skulls. Ratonhnhaké:ton leapt up when the sailor's holding him cringed and smashed his head against one of theirs, and then kicked the family jewels of the other sailor. I pulled my blades out of the bodies and quickly cut the rope binding Ratonhnhaké:ton as a cry of outrage came up from the remaining sailors. I tossed Ratonhnhaké:ton his tomahawk and hidden blades off of the corpses of the captain and first mate and went to meet the furious sailors as Ratonhnhaké:ton fastened the hidden blades around his wrists.

We fought for all of two minutes, blood washing among the sea-spray that showered into the ship, before the four sailors from the _Aquila_ that Faulkner had sent with us opened fire from the cliffs. A few enemy sailors realized that they wouldn't win and abandoned ship. The rest stayed to fight, however futile it was, and made more so when the _Aquila_ herself appeared from around the cliffs and opened fire as soon as she came alongside the Templar ship.

Ratonhnhaké:ton grabbed me as the _Aquila_'s cannons were primed and tackled me to the ground, barely avoiding the cannonballs that smashed into the ship and the cliff. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard a cheer from the _Aquila_, signalling our victory. Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled down at me.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I nodded. "Fine, thanks. Nice line of yours, by the way." Ratonhnhaké:ton stood and offered a hand to help me up. "How'd you know I was there?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton shrugged. "I did not. I took a Leap of Faith."

I grinned, and playfully punched his arm when he'd hoisted me onto my feet. "Now you're getting it, Ratonhnhaké:ton."

Smiling, Ratonhnhaké:ton opened his mouth to say something more, but Faulkner unintentionally interrupted him. "Cap'n!" the first mate called from across the gap of water that separated the _Aquila_ and her enemy. "Thought you'd abandoned ship when we opened fire!"

"I did not, Mister Faulkner," Ratonhnhaké:ton replied, amplifying his voice so it would carry to the older man, "but I am gladdened that you chose to fire upon the ship. We will search for anything of value here before she sinks, and then we will join you aboard the _Aquila_."

"Of course, sir!" Faulkner looked up at the cliff. "You lot! Get your sorry hides down here! We've a deadline to make!"

"Aye, Mister Faulkner!" the men cried, and then precariously began the descent from the cliff.

Ratonhnhaké:ton opened the door to the captain's cabin and began to sift through papers and chests. I leaned against the doorway, smiling at him. "What makes you think that the captain had anything of value?"

"I heard him speaking with his first mate before I was discovered," Ratonhnhaké:ton said. "He mentioned a manifest of some Templar cargo that would be sent to New York and Boston to my father. I plan to learn of it and sink it."

I left the room and quickly searched the captain's body, and quickly discovered a bloody letter on his being. Grinning, I returned to the captain's cabin and held it up. Ratonhnhaké:ton plucked it out of my hands and gingerly opened it.

He frowned. "It is written in code. It will take time to decipher it."

"Achilles is good with these things," I told the youth. "He has nothing better to do, anyway."

"I suppose so." Ratonhnhaké:ton pocketed the letter. "Perhaps there is a key here that will aid him?"

"I'm willing to bet that it's in a secret compartment," I said.

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded, and began to check behind some of the paintings. Finding nothing, he looked at me, as if waiting for instruction. I grinned and pointed at the desk.

"Try underneath," I suggested.

He did so, and held up the paper triumphantly. "This will bring us closer to ending the reign of the Templars on the sea."

"Slowly, yes, but eventually."


	29. The Son

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

The Son

_**1230**_

I was in luck that Darim had a spare set of Syrian Assassin robes to spare me. Just as well, he'd brought my shortblade, hidden blade and silver longsword in the case that he managed to convince me to help. Well, I wouldn't let Ghazi die. Rami needed his father.

While Darim planned with some Assassins from Alexandria, I returned to Ahdara in full Assassin garb to tell her that I wouldn't be back for a while. She seemed to understand, and I gave both she and Rami a kiss good-bye before I joined Darim at the edge of the city, with Ahdara saying, "Be safe".

He provided me with a horse, and I swiftly mounted it and led it to his side. He grinned at me.

"This mission would do well with the Shadow-Step," he commented.

I smiled. "Good thing that she hasn't gotten out of practice with her Ghosting then, yes?"

As we ushered our mounts forward, Darim raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, 'Ghosting'?"

"People call me 'Suna of the Shadow-Step' for a reason, brother," I said. "My Ghosting is the technique I use. Unfortunately, we haven't fought together enough for you to see it. Even with our trip to Mongolia."

"Then what does it do?"

"It tricks the perception of a human." Again, Darim's eyebrow raised. I grinned at him. "I can make my presence so unnoticeable that, even if I stand in front of my adversary, they will not notice me, and I can easily slip by them. If I am in the midst of battle, it appears as if I have become invisible to the eye."

"And you have decided to call such a technique 'Ghosting'?"

"It fits my nickname, does it not?"

We met with the other Assassins not far out of the city, but I could already hear hammers smashing stone and the cries of the men as they strained to work. I was sure Ghazi was among them.

"We will move to surround them," one of the Assassins said, motioning an arm with an arm. "On my signal, we will attack, and save those enslaved by that accursed artefact."

I nodded and followed Darim. Our horses made nary a sound in the desert, as if they knew our mission called for stealth. We dismounted near a well that our horses were thankful for, and then scurried through the sands to a tall dune where we could overlook the work being done. I could not spot Ghazi, but I recognized a few of the men. They looked dazed, as if they were not truly themselves and there. I had never seen such a look, but it reminded me of Altair somehow.

"Poor bastards," Darim murmured, reminding me much of mother's many sayings and curses. "We need to help!"

"Wait for the signal!" I warned my brother, who was almost on his feet. "We should keep our eyes peeled for the one with the artefact. Take that, and his control is gone."

Darim nodded sharply, his mouth a thin line of determination. He knew the stake I had in this mission. I would not leave Rami without a father.

We waited only a while longer before a man dressed in fine garments walked out from a tent. His hand went into his robe as he smiled at the labours of the enslaved men, and then he reached into his tent to grab a staff to aid him in walking.

Only... Only that staff was not ordinary. Darim and I shared a glance. We recognized the symbols etched upon it. A Staff. A Staff of Eden. I shivered at the thought of the Sword Genghis Khan had brandished and wounded me with, how its power had drawn me to the edge of the cliff, but I managed to overcome it and throw it into the sea below.

_These artefacts will be the death of me,_ I thought grimly.

The man walked to a platform above the toiling men and raised the Staff above his head. It glowed with unearthly power, shining like the mighty rays of the sun. The men stopped to admire it, some even clambering atop each other like animals to get at it, but they were stopped by the guards overseeing the project.

"My diligent followers!" the man called as the power of the Staff seemed to ebb to a dim light. "Today, the Cult of the Sun will no longer hide within the shadows! The work you do here brings us closer to our former glory, and our fate as the true rulers of this earth! This plane is ours, and Heaven awaits us with open arms!"

While some groaned, their throats dry and caked with sand, others yet cheered. The man revelled in it for a moment longer before he brought up his hand to silence them, and then gestured to his tent.

"However, not all share our views. And this is why an example must be made." The man beckoned towards the tent, and two guards ushered out a man of rather large build to the platform. He struggled, but to no avail. And I realized that the man was Ghazi.

Darim held me down that time, my warning ringing in both our ears but only audible to his—only _comprehendible_ to his!

"That is Ahdara's _husband_!" I hissed to him. "That is the father of _Rami_!"

"Wait for the signal!" Darim responded harshly.

The guards shoved Ghazi to his knees. He did not stay there, and soon received a boot to the head. He slammed against the ground, groaning, and slowly began to stand again, but another boot stopped him and the guards held his bloodied head with sneers on their faces.

"This man tried to escape!" the man roared into the crowd that threw stones at Ghazi. "This man _denied_ the truth! And he has proven that he is nothing more than a heretic! A non-believer! Death is the only mercy we can grant his tainted soul!"

"My soul is not tainted, as he wills you to believe!" Ghazi shouted with strength I thought he'd lost. "My eyes were opened! He controls you with that _thing_! Close your minds to it, else your families will never see you again!"

"And now he threatens your families!" Men booed him and continued to throw stones. I was relieved that most missed. "What say you?! Shall I, your humble servant, deliver death!"

"Death!" a man cried. I recognized him to be Ghazi's friend.

"Kill him! Off with his head!" another yelled. That man had come to eat at the house every-so-often.

The man with the Staff laughed, and raised the artefact above his head. "Then so be it," he murmured.

He did not get the chance.

I had broken from Darim long ago, and leapt at the man, my hidden blade careening towards his throat. As soon as it punctured, I heard a volley of cries come from both the workers, the guards, and the incoming Assassins.

At least we'd had the element of surprise.

"Assassins!" one of the guards roared as he drew his sword.

I grabbed the fallen Staff and slammed it hard into the side of his head. His neck bent at an unnerving angle, and he did not move when he hit the ground. The second guard with Ghazi was thrown off his feet by the man he'd once guarded, and Ghazi nodded to regard me.

I nodded in turn. Perhaps it was my years away from the Assassins that had done me wrong. Perhaps it was just my own lack of training. Whatever the case, nodding was a stupid move. I should have tackled him out of the way when I could.

Ghazi's throat was immediately punctured with an arrow. My eyes widened as I watched his eyes glaze and his body fall onto the cement, his lifeblood dripping from the hole.

A laugh came up from behind me. I turned to see the man whose throat I'd stabbed pointing at me, grinning like a madman.

"You would have revived your order if it were destroyed, as I tried, Assassin," the man sputtered. "How foolish of you..."

"What foolishness?!" I cried, smashing the end of the Staff into his chest.

He coughed, but his mocking laughter continued. "Back-up plans, Assassin... Alexandria... lies... undefended...'

I dropped the Staff after stabbing him once more, ensuring his death, and then slowly crawled to Ghazi. The failure I felt was... indescribable.

I pulled the arrow from his throat and turned him onto his back, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Find peace, brother," I said quietly, calling upon my Assassin training to try and calm my emotions. "Rest in peace."

_Wait... "Alexandria lies undefended"... AHDARA?!_

I leapt up and sprinted to my horse, despite the battle around me. I mounted with the speed of a bolt of lightning and had my mount take off through the desert, back to the city. It did not take long for the city to come into view, nor the column of smoke that steadily rose from it.

"No!" I exclaimed, ushering my horse to go faster. "No, no, no, no!"

Men and women ran through the streets screaming names forgotten on my ears. I think my horse struck some of them as it led me towards Ahdara's house. The fire became too intense for it and it skidded to a stop, sounds of fear finding their way through its mouth.

I leapt off and charged into the fiery street, all thoughts of safety gone from my mind. Ahdara's house was near the worst of the blaze, and I needed to hurry.

"AHDARA!" I screamed into the fire that was her home. "AHDARA! ANSWER ME!"

"Suna! SUNA!" I thanked whatever deities were out there and charged into the home, my arms shielding my face from the greedy embers flying around.

"AHDARA!" My eyes squinted from the smoke. I could hardly make out a thing! I coughed as the smoke entered my lungs. "WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"Here! Here, Suna!" I followed her voice and the sounds of coughing. I barely made it into the bedroom before the roof started to come down.

Ahdara lay pinned beneath a burning beam. My heart leapt in my chest, and my hands grasped the wood despite the searing heat that travelled through me.

"Stop! Stop!" Ahdara exclaimed. "Suna, I am already dead!"

"YOU'RE NOT DEAD! YOU'RE NOT DEAD!" I put more effort into my arms. I could smell my flesh being burned away. "YOU ARE NOT DEAD UNTIL YOU NO LONGER DRAW BREATH! DON'T EVER SAY THAT!"

Ahdara grabbed hold of my sleeve and pulled me down towards her. Her eyes glistened with tears that were unable to fall. I felt my own begin to fall.

"Take Rami," she told me, her hand going up to my face. "Take him to Ghazi. Do not let him die!"

"But Ahdara—!"

"DO NOT LET MY BABY DIE!" Ahdara screamed, pointing to the bundle not far from her.

I stood rooted to the spot, my entire being shaking with terror. And then I closed my eyes, fresh tears pouring over my soot-stained cheeks, and I kissed Ahdara's forehead.

"I won't," I told her. "I promise. I promise!"

Ahdara nodded, and then squeezed my arm. "Go!"

I ran to Rami, picked up the babe, and tore through the house to fresh air. I left my cousin behind as the home exploded.

I swore two things that day: one, that I would never stand by and watch another person die in a fire such as that.

Two, that I would raise Rami. I would raise him to be proud of his mother and father. I would not let him die, like I promised Ahdara.

_I would not let him die_!


	30. Decision Time

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

Decision Time

_**1246**_

After that fire, Darim remained in Alexandria with Sef's widow and children. He invited me to stay with the Assassins, but the Assassins needed me in Alamut. Altair needed me in Alamut. So at the end of that year, I packed what meagre belongings I had, took Rami in my arms and set out for Alamut.

The trip took a couple months, and when we arrived the guards aimed spears at us, but I proved that I was no threat to Altair and entered with Rami. He rarely cried, so my steps had echoed through the halls, alerting him to my presence.

Altair, during that time I'd been away, had changed. A grey beard obscured his face, his eyes had bags under them, and it seemed to me as if his age had caught up with him. Wrinkles were prominent on his face. He looked like a tired old man.

I think Altair and I took each other in for about two minutes before he extended a withered hand, a difficult smile forming on his face.

_"Welcome back, Suna,"_ he'd said, his voice far more raspy than I remembered.

We'd held each other for a long time before I finally pulled away, trying to hold back the tears. He either didn't notice or didn't care about his own, but they were falling freely. Rami began whimpering as well, but he was still just a babe.

_"Is he yours?"_ I remembered Altair asking.

I had shook my head and explained that he was Ahdara's. When I didn't answer about why I held Rami in Alamut, so far away from Alexandria, Altair's eyes softened and he nodded in understanding. It felt like a battle trying to get the explanation out, and I was gladdened that I did not. I had spent so long caging in my feelings because I was afraid of what might come out. Maybe that other "me" that had been trapped in Masyaf's dungeon would come out. I did not want that to happen.

And so, the years passed. Darim sent regular letters to let us know what he was up to. Genghis Khan's grandchild, Hulagu Khan, was rumoured to be spearheading his army, and so the Mongolian Assassins requested help from the Levant once more, but we heard of Abbas' answer: there would be no aid to the Mongolian Assassins, because they brought the Khan wrath upon themselves. When Altair heard of it, he bristled, and then locked himself in his room with the Apple. I had to leave Rami for a moment to rip the letter to shreds in my anger, but not before reading Darim's last sentace: he was heading to England to warn the English Assassins of the Mongol threat. The letters took longer to receive, but it relieved me to know that Darim was still safe.

I didn't know how, but having a child around the Assassins seemed to keep their spirits up. Who'd have known? Rami was a wild and rambunctious child who always found himself in trouble or hurt, but he was good, and more than willing to accept punishment for his mistakes. I think it reminded the Assassins about what we fought for. Rami was the embodiment of the innocence we wanted to protect in children. Children should not have to grow around bloodshed and violence; rather, they should be like Rami, who was always so bright and energetic.

Rami also took an interest in the daily training of the Assassins. I could remember walking around the large halls in Alamut, and Rami running up to the balconies to watch the Assassins drill and perfect their techniques. His jaw would drop in awe of them. They—we—became heroes to him. And Altair was his God.

_"Auntie,"_ Rami once said as we sat at the table to eat, _"what is the creed?"_

I had stopped eating to look at the boy. He had Ahdara's dark brown hair, made darker still by Ghazi's influence, and Ghazi's dark eyes, but there was a fire in those eyes that sparked my interest. Perhaps it belonged to his great-great-grandfather, my own grandfather? Because it surely _did_ _not_ come from Ah'd.

I'd smiled at the boy and took a sip of some tea. _"What creed, Rami?"_

_"The Assassin's Creed,"_ he'd said.

_"Nothing is true, everything is permitted."_

Rami's head tilted to the side in confusion. _"What does it mean?"_

_"Only the Assassins know, Rami."_

_"But you're an Assassin!"_ Rami cried.

I chuckled. _"Rami, the Assassins each have their own interpretation of the creed, but they all converge at the end. To ask one what the Assassin's Creed meant, and then another would give you two different answers, although similar."_

_"So I can make up my own answer?"_

Shaking my head, I reached over the table and ruffled his hair. _"Only if you're an Assassin, Rami."_

And then, the endless begging came. Rami wanted, more than anything, to become an Assassin. To fight the Templars and the Mongols and be a herom like most fantasies of children. I refused to allow him every time he brought up the topic though. I didn't want the only son of Ahdara and Ghazi pursuing such a dangerous profession. Or, perhaps, it was just my own fears that held him back.

When Rami was eight, he was studying diligently, and he was easily one of the smartest in the classes I had him attending. One day, he was doing his homework on the table, and as Altair slowly hobbled into the kitchen, the age of his body finally taking its toll, Rami looked up at me.

_"Why can't I be an Assassin?"_

_"Because it's dangerous, Rami."_

Altair gave a throaty chuckle and moved to get some tea for himself. Did he take so much enjoyment to watch me with Rami? He, himself, seemed to enjoy the boy's company.

_"Auntie,"_ Rami said, placing his quill on the table beside his notes, _"it is a dangerous world we live in. I would at least like to know enough to defend myself... and you."_

I'd stared at Rami, sighed, and ruffled his hair once more. _"I cannot argue with that. Only enough to defend yourself though. And even then, I want you to study!"_

Rami had beamed and grabbed his quill, intent on finishing his homework as fast as possible. When he finished, I'd taken him out to the training yard. The boy was giddy with anticipation to join his school friends in fighting, I was sure.

There were three disciplines that were offered in Alamut: the sword, the spear, and the fist. Rami, of course, wanted to do them all, but I had him choose only one. Learning all three would impair his studies. So, Rami chose the spear.

I didn't think that the years could pass by so quickly. Every morning, Rami would take his spear and train. By noon, he would be studying, and then from the early afternoon to supper he would train once more. There were times when, just before bed, he would light a candle and study his notes, sometimes even making corrections.

All the while, I think I experienced what Maria had gone through with me and my brothers. Rami grew from babe to boy, boy to young man in so short a time. It filled me with as much sadness as joy.

On this particular day, Rami was returning from his morning practice drenched in sweat from head to foot. Such a thing meant he'd been sparring, and bruises would likely be forming soon. And as much as he said they didn't bother him, Rami was only sixteen; not yet a man, but trying to prove himself as one.

"Rami!" I called from another room.

He slowly stepped into the room. His eyes showed how tired he was. "Yes, Auntie?"

At his age, I realized how much he really looked like Ghazi. If he had gone to work like his father had, he would have had his build. But now, it looked as if his build was closer to that of Altair's when I had first been taken in, despite how Rami had no relation to my father. Still, the smooth structure of his jaw line, the shape of his eyes and the way his dark brown hair curled hinted at Ahdara.

"Clean up and get ready for the day, will you?" I asked as I sat at the table. Servants bustled behind me to make the morning meal. "Ask Altair if he would join us, too."

Rami nodded, a gleeful spark in his eyes at the mention of Altair. He hurried off, exhaustion forgotten, and I examined the servants while I waited. I wanted to learn how to cook. I'd found ways to busy myself, so it was difficult to free myself up to learn.

Because Rami was growing older (and to avoid suspicion to myself), I continuously wore my hood. Altair noticed, but said not a word. Rami had asked why I wore the hood once, but I'd only smiled and grave him a kiss on the forehead in answer. It would be troublesome if he knew that he'd look older than his aunt soon. (I wasn't really his aunt. I was his second-cousin, but I preferred him to call me "Auntie". It was just easier on both of us.)

It wasn't long after that Rami entered and helped Altair into the room. His beard had grown longer, his eyes far graver than before. There was no more grey to be found in his hair; only white. I wondered, as he sat down, about what the Apple had shown him over the sixteen years we'd been with him.

"Suna," he regarded in his quiet, raspy voice as Rami helped him to sit.

"Father," I responded. "What is on your mind?"

Rami sat at the table in-between Altair and I. He immediately dug into his food, but I could tell that my question was making him listen intently.

Altair took a deep, slow breath, exhaling just as slowly. "I think it is time."

"Time for what?" I prompted.

"To return to Masyaf."

I stopped reaching for my cutlery, my hand frozen in the air. Rami stopped eating and glanced at the two of us.

"What about Masyaf?" he asked.

"It is time, I think, that Suna and I return to Masyaf to face Abbas, the murderer of my son and friend," Altair said. "And the torturer of my daughter."

"Torturer?" Rami looked at me as my heart hardened, trying to erase those memories of darkness from my mind. "Auntie?"

"We will speak of this later, Altair," I said stiffly. I stood, casting a look at the two. "Eat. I am not hungry."

I hurried from the room and walked to the furthest balcony to get some fresh air. I _did_ want to return, but I was not ready to do so. Nothing drove my heart more than the chance to kill Abbas for what he'd done to Malik and my brother... and me. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to die like a dog—no, dirt. Dirt was the only thing he was remotely comparable to.

But such thoughts were poison to my mind, and against what Altair taught me. If we returned, I would surely become that person who was tortured and imprisoned in the dungeon again, and I was not certain that I could break from that hold once more.

However, if I returned with Altair, maybe it would be for the better. Altair could guide me, as he had for so long. And what of Rami? Would I bring him with us? He wasn't an Assassin, and had no grudge against Abbas or stake in the reclaiming of Masyaf, but I couldn't leave him behind. I'd promised Ahdara, after all. I swore it to her face that I would protect him, and leaving him behind would mean I was betraying her.

I took a large gulp of air to calm myself, my decision in place. If Altair would walk into Masyaf, I would be there to follow him and protect him. Rami would be there too, and I wouldn't let Abbas lay a finger on him.

He'd already taken so much from me. Altair was right. It was time to return the favour.


	31. Pride's Folly

Chapter Thirty:

Pride's Folly

_**1773**_

"You just got back from doing _what_?!"

Ratonhnhaké:ton's lips pursed. He was soaking wet, having just arrived via the _Aquila_ from Boston. I hadn't yet heard a word of what had happened... until Ratonhnhaké:ton returned.

"We received the attention of William Johnson by tossing crates of tea overboard," Ratonhnhaké:ton said. "We have sent a message that he cannot ignore. I believe this will stop him from purchasing my people's land."

I groaned and stalked off to the dining room, Ratonhnhaké:ton following me closely.

"Why are you upset for this? Did you want them to have it?!" the youth demanded.

I slumped into the nearest dining chair and buried my face in my hands. "Ratonhnhaké:ton… You've started something that can't be stopped now. It's a boulder rolling downhill, for heaven's sake!"

"I could not just stand there and let William Johnson purchase land that does not belong to him!"

"I understand why you went, but both the British and those who live in the New World have been dying for an excuse for war. _Ahbal_…"

Ratonhnhaké:ton tilted his head. "What does that mean?"

I shook my head. "My apologies. I deferred to my native tongue. My point is that tea might seem like a simple message to Johnson to you, but to the people who came to the New World it's a symbol of defiance towards the Crown—."

"Good. People deserve freedom. And this is oppression."

I sighed. "Ratonhnhaké:ton, the taxes have increased because of the French and Indian War. The British need to compensate for sending their soldiers overseas to stop French advancement! Your people's land would have been overrun with French soldiers had they not, but now the people who've come to the New World have had a taste of power and are becoming greedy—!"

Ratonhnhaké:ton bristled. "They are not! You don't know the words that come from your mouth! Had you seen Boston, surely you would see the oppression!"

"What in blazes is going on here?!" Achilles hobbled into the room on his walking stick, placing his hat on his head.

"Apologies, Achilles," I said, standing. "It's nothing. Just a friendly debate."

Achilles frowned at Ratonhnhaké:ton and I. "Indeed," he said, sarcasm laced into his voice. "Connor, would you mind helping Sara in the kitchen once you've bathed? She had an early start this morning."

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded, and then lumbered up the steps. He was only light on his feet when he knew he needed to be.

"I'm not that tired," I told Achilles once Ratonhnhaké:ton had reached the top of the steps.

Achilles clicked his tongue. "You got up early this morning, helped Warren and Prudence on their farm, and then trained for several hours." The old man pointed his walking stick at me. "You're tired, and I don't want you cutting yourself with a knife when making supper. Connor can help, and you can teach him a bit more about how to cook."

I rolled my eyes. "Ratonhnhaké:ton is quite aware of how to cook, old man."

"Yes…" Achilles smirked. "But on the days you're gone to the market or on a mission yourself, neither of us can cook much more than soup."

"Typical," I remarked dryly. "And why don't you learn too?"

"I'm old. My time for learning is done."

I grinned mischievously. "Altair hadn't finished learning for years, Achilles."

Frowning, Achilles responded with, "Altair had a mystical fruit to stare into for hours on end! The… The Peach of Eden!"

"Apple, Achilles. The _Apple_ of Eden."

"They're both fruits!" Achilles turned. "Still, maybe you should take a bath before you cook with Connor. And then you two can debate feeling refreshed."

"Gee, thanks, Achilles." I watched Achilles stalk back to his room, and then I sighed. He was right though; I needed a bath.

So I went to my room and used the one that I usually did. Those two were men, so it was only fair that I got some privacy. That done, I changed into simpler clothes and met Ratonhnhaké:ton downstairs. He had his arms crossed over his chest, waiting impatiently for me.

I frowned when I saw him and threw him a towel. "Hair," I said.

Ratonhnhaké:ton used the towel and then hung it outside. I waited for him patiently, and when he re-entered I motioned for him to roll up his sleeves. It was one of those rare times when the youth wasn't adorned in weapons or wearing his Assassin robes.

"What will we be cooking tonight?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

_He doesn't want to talk about earlier. Good. Neither do I._ "I was thinking of making something from a land I visited a few years ago. It's a simple dish to them. First, I'm going to need rice."

"I can get that. It is in the larder." Ratonhnhaké:ton left while I grabbed a pot and poured some water into it. He returned shortly with a large bag of rice slung over his shoulder. "What shall I do with it?"

"Pour some of the rice into the pot. We'll boil it." Ratonhnhaké:ton did as asked, and then I had him grab some sauce from a higher cupboard. He happily obliged while I set three freshly caught fish onto the cutting boards. "Ready?"

"What will I be doing?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

I held up a knife and handed an identical one to him. "We'll be gutting these. So slowly draw the knife like this..." Ratonhnhaké:ton watched me, and then did it himself. He'd buried the knife too deeply, and when the fish opened its guts spurted out. Luckily, Ratonhnhaké:ton had jumped away in time. I laughed as Ratonhnhaké:ton watched the bloody floor with a disgusted look on his face.

Once we'd cleaned the mess, I gave Ratonhnhaké:ton the next fish and had him gut it while I spent some time on the rice, adding vegetables to a pan next to the rice.

When the fish were gutted, I seared them with the vegetables and then sent Ratonhnhaké:ton to retrieve Achilles. By the time the food was done, Achilles was seated at the table. Ratonhnhaké:ton returned to the kitchen to help carry the food out once it had been put onto plates, and then I grabbed some wine to go along with it.

Achilles seemed to approve of the meal. "You two did well on this," he commented. "When you two work together, you can create great things, yes?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton and I glanced at each other from out of the corner of our eyes, and then Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled and ate his fish. _Achilles, you crafty bastard... "When you are content to be simply yourself and don't compare or compete, everyone will respect you." I get it._

"After this, Ratonhnhaké:ton, did you want to train a bit more?"

The youth looked up at me. I smiled at him, and he smiled in turn. "I would. I look forward to seeing what else you have to teach, Sara."

"Not much by now," I commented. _He's technically my age, after all..._ "But sparring would do good to show me what else you need to know."

Ratonhnhaké:ton froze up. "I-I would rather you simply show me."

Achilles chuckled, and then placed his napkin onto his empty plate. "Where did the meal inspiration come from?"

"A land far from here. I visited it when I was younger," I told the old man. Ratonhnhaké:ton leaned in to listen. "There, they carry curved blades that can slice through a man with ease. They also have a different governing system; one I'm fascinated with, actually."

"Is this faraway land inhabited by people like mine?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

I shrugged. "Somewhat. Everyone had their own system before we intermingled. In my home, men of riches ruled while men of strength opposed, each as malicious as the next. The system called for death every other day, and hardly anyone respected one another." I pointed my fork at the Native youth. "You should count your blessings, Ratonhnhaké:ton. Death was commonplace where I lived. It was something I grew up with, and saw every other day. And it wasn't the deaths of animals; men and women who I'd known and interacted with, created a relationship with, died in the blink of an eye."

"I am young yet, but tragedy is not foreign to me." Ratonhnhaké:ton began to play with his food. Achilles stood, grabbed his empty plate and went into the kitchen. "My mother died when I was young, in a fire that took my village. We rebuilt, but the damage was done."

_Ziio..._ "What was your mother like?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton had a ghost of a smile on his face as he recalled her. I wanted to know what Ziio was from his point-of-view. "She was a very free spirit. Oiá:ner said that, because of her interactions with my father, she was deemed unworthy to take her mother's title. She did not seem to mind though. I enjoyed the time she spent with me, and her freedom from that title allowed us much time together."

I paused. "May I ask you something else?"

"Of course."

"How do you know who your father is?"

Biting his lip, he replied, "Oiá:ner told me. She said that he was—is—a very powerful man, capable of many things. The great things he could do, however, are few now. He is too far within his Order to try."

"Haytham Kenway, huh?" I sat back in my seat. "The son of Edward Kenway."

Ratonhnhaké:ton's brow rose. "My grandfather?"

"Mhm. He sailed the seas of the Caribbean years ago, as an Assassin and a pirate. He died when Haytham was only ten."

The youth stared at his plate, processing the new information. I wondered if he was beginning to see his father in a different light.

"Edward was slain in front of his son. Haytham committed his first kill that night, and afterwards he was raised by a man named Reginald Birch. It's my understanding that Mr. Birch was engaged to be married to Haytham's half-sister, Jenny."

"I have an aunt?"

I nodded. "She was rescued from a city called Damascus a year after your birth. She had been kidnapped on the night Edward died, and Haytham retrieved her after all those years." I leaned forward, my elbows planted on either side of my plate on the table and my head resting in my hands. "He and Jenny had never had much of a relationship. I doubt they're really keeping in touch these days, anyhow."

"And how do you know all this?"

I shrugged. "Assassin networks. Haytham is a Templar, but he was raised by an Assassin. He has learned to question every answer he receives, so he's not wholly a Templar. It was not his choice to become one; he simply didn't know about both sides beforehand."

Ratonhnhaké:ton pondered. "And what of my grandmother?"

"Tessa? She died in 1747. She'd watched Haytham kill a man, and couldn't see him as a little boy any longer." I stopped myself, wondering if I should continue. "Some say that she died of a broken heart."

The youth nodded. "It seems that it is not my own life that has been difficult."

I smirked. "At one point or another, everyone's life has been difficult. Take Achilles, for example. Maybe you should ask him why he's living so far away from everyone, and so alone."

"He is no longer alone."

"Just as you are not, Ratonhnhaké:ton." I grinned as Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes widened, and his cheeks reddened slightly. "Are you done? I should get washing the dishes if you want to learn some new techniques."

Scarfing down the last of his meal, Ratonhnhaké:ton said, "I will help!"

I grinned. "Excellent! It'll be done all the faster!"

At the very least, I hoped that Ratonhnhaké:ton understood his father a bit more. Maybe, one day, despite the sides they were on, they could sit and speak with one another. I knew that it was something that Ratonhnhaké:ton was wondering about now.

Still... Haytham was a Templar. He was still our enemy. So I hoped that there wouldn't be an opening to kill him before Ratonhnhaké:ton got to speak with him.


	32. The Bear Attack

Chapter Thirty-One:

The Bear Attack

_**1773**_

"Sara!" Warren gasped as he ran up to me.

I stopped dead in my tracks. I'd just returned from a simple assassination, so I was wearing my current Assassin outfit with the hood down, and it was already dark out. Honestly, I was surprised that the farmer could recognize me from so far away.

"It's Prudence!" Warren exclaimed. "S-She has been missing for hours! I cannot find her!"

Prudence was Warren's wife and a woman I got along with very well. She always had a kind word to say about everyone. My eyes widened. "Where have you looked?!"

"Everywhere! But I—!"

"I will keep up the search. Find Ratonhnhaké:ton—Connor—and enlist his aid as well!"

Warren nodded as I set off through the trees, my eyes studying the terrain with panicked intent. Prudence shouldn't have gone off alone.

It was several minutes later that I ventured far enough into the woods to hear a scream. I bolted towards the sound, legs pumping with adrenaline, and reached Prudence in time to tackle her away from the bear, which intended to crush the woman under its weight.

I twisted in the air and took the brunt of the damage from the twigs on the forest floor. They prodded my exposed skin, and I could feel a bit of blood already dripping from my back. Still, I hurried to my feet as the bear roared and charged. I grabbed a stick and slapped it against the side of its head as I danced around it, trying to divert its attention from Prudence. I yelled as well, wondering if the sound agitated it.

The bear didn't take the bait, and quickly lumbered towards Prudence. Cursing, I leapt onto the animal's back and caught its neck in a choke-hold. _That_ annoyed it. The bear growled and tried to shake me off as I slowly choked it, and then it reared and slammed me against a tree.

Crying out in pain, I slumped to the ground as my jarred head tried to regain sense. I didn't see or even feel the bear's claws rake across my stomach until seconds after I had my wits about me. I squeezed my eyes shut as the bear's paw came at me again, this time injuring my face.

I was flung by my head towards Prudence, who screamed when my body hit the ground in front of her. The bear stepped over me, getting closer to Prudence. I finally managed to find the strength to stand, run in front of Prudence once more, and shove my arm into the way of the bear's mouth as it opened to expose its fangs to the farmer. Its teeth clamped down hard on my arm and I screamed, but managed to activate my hidden blade on my right arm. I had hoped to lead the bear off. Now it was apparent that it wouldn't leave.

I buried my hidden blade repeatedly into its neck, but the bear was larger and stronger than many I'd seen before, so it probably felt as if I was simply poking it repeatedly. In reply, the grip of the bear's teeth tightened on my arm. I raised my hidden blade, gritting my teeth to try and ignore the pain, and thrust it into the bear's eye.

Surprisingly, my hidden blade wasn't long enough to penetrate its brain, but they bear cried in agony and took one last bite at my arm before it released me and stumbled backwards.

Immediately, Ratonhnhaké:ton leapt down from the trees and caught the bear's throat with his bow. Wrestling the massive animal to the ground, Ratonhnhaké:ton repeatedly stabbed it with his hidden blade, and when his blade proved too small he unleashed his tomahawk upon the animal, massacring it without so much as a second thought.

Prudence's eyes were fixated on the bear, so I took that as my chance to slip away. I didn't dare look at my arm; I couldn't even feel it. Eventually, I reached a stream and collapsed beside it. Blood was gushing from my wounds, and I was pretty sure that my arm was a goner. Steeling myself, I looked over at it, raising my shoulder to get a better look.

My arm dangled towards the ground on only one visible muscle, and then that muscle snapped. Pain jolted through what remained of my arm as I watched my forearm and hand fall to the ground. I vomited right beside it as some of my fingers twitched, and then I collapsed, my eyes closing completely unvoluntarily.

But I woke up a while later with sunlight streaming through my window. _Window?_ I sat up, pain shooting through my body as I took in my surroundings. I was back in my room in the manor. The only thing that differed was the fact that a wooden chair had been pulled up to my bedside, and Ratonhnhaké:ton lay sleeping in it, his head lolled back onto his wide-set shoulders and his mouth comically open.

I hissed in pain when I moved, and wrapped my arms around my body, where the bear had slashed me. My face still hurt too—.

_Wait... Arms? _Arms_?!_

I looked down as I spread my arms in front of me. My left arm was still attached. Sure, it looked like I'd gotten into a fight with a bear (which I had...), but it looked minor with just a few bite marks and certainly not deep enough to worry about.

I flexed my fingers on it and tested it out before letting it rest at my side. _Of course. The Apple... I get it._ I could remember trying to decapitate myself once. I thought I'd failed, because I awoke a while later with my head still attached. But... It was the Apple. I _had_ succeeded. It just kept me alive, like Altair had asked. Kept me alive and exactly as I was before my fight with Mohammad. It was only following Altair's commands.

But I wondered how it could work on me from so far away. It was still nestled safely in Altair's library. I put a hand on my chest and sighed. _Ah. The Apple's power knows no bounds, I see. I still carry it within me. My eyes should have told me that. I should have understood sooner._

But I didn't understand why my other wounds were taking so long to heal. I cursed my stupidity. I had tried to lead the bear away when I should have just killed it outright. If I had, Prudence and Ratonhnhaké:ton wouldn't have seen me hurt. _Now I'll have to wear my hood and my other robes all the time... Dammit!_

"Sara?" Ratonhnhaké:ton pulled me out of my thoughts. He smiled, his head now sitting firmly on his shoulders. I smiled back. "I am gladdened to see that you are mostly unhurt. I had thought for a moment that you were far more injured than before..." Ratonhnhaké:ton trailed off, and then gestured to my arm. "The bear bit you, but it seems that it did not cause much harm. Prudence told me that it had swiped at you twice, but it seems as though you evaded its claws and met its paw instead."

My eyes widened as relief trailed through me. I've already healed? Then my muscles must just be sore. "How is Prudence?" I asked.

"She is well," Ratonhnhaké:ton replied. "She is shaken by her experience with the bear, and she worries for you. Warren soon found us both and took Prudence back to their farm, and then I went to search for you. The bear must have hit an important artery when he bit you, because there was much blood. Thankfully, it was simply a false alarm. You weren't very wounded; only tired and jarred."

_I am _beyond_ lucky. _Beyond_._ "I'm glad Prudence is all right."

Ratonhnhaké:ton leaned in close to me, his dark eyes serious. "What were you thinking, taking that bear on by yourself? You should have waited for me."

"I'm not a damsel in distress, Ratonhnhaké:ton." I glanced at him, a wry smile forming on my lips. "I'm an Assassin. _And_ I'm your superiour. I did what was right. Yes, it was stupid, but I wouldn't watch Prudence be mauled by a bear."

Ratonhnhaké:ton sighed, and then nodded. "Of course. You are right. I would have done the same."

I tilted my head at the youth as he cast his eyes to the floor, and then playfully flicked his forehead. His eyes widened, unsure of the gesture. Of course, I'd done it to him hundreds of times when he was a toddler, and when I was "Kanaka".

"Don't look so glum. I'll be out of bed in a jiffy. My arm only needs a sling, right?" Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded, so I smiled. "Excellent. If you could get me one I'll get out of bed all the faster."

Ratonhnhaké:ton leapt to his feet and left the room. I heard several things crash to the ground as I waited, and then Ratonhnhaké:ton hurried back in and offered me the sling.

"Can you help?" I asked.

Nodding, Ratonhnhaké:ton came in close to me and fastened the sling around my arm. When it hung adequately, I grinned and stood up, placing a peck on Ratonhnhaké:ton's cheek in thanks. It had become a habit years ago, and habits were difficult to kick.

"Now, let's go see what needs to be done around here!" I exclaimed as Ratonhnhaké:ton's face became as red as my crimson bedsheets. I left the room, but poked my head back in when I realized Ratonhnhaké:ton hadn't moved. "Ratonhnhaké:ton? Hurry up!"

Ratonhnhaké:ton's hand was set on the cheek my lips had kissed, and then he shook his head to clear it and followed after me. "Y-Yes," he said quietly, following me out of the room.


	33. We'll Never Die

Chapter Thirty-Two:

We'll Never Die

_**2012**_

I planted a foot on the ground, leapt into the air and shot my arms forward, effectively knocking out the men dragging me. Walter shoved one of the men against the wall with his shoulder, and I managed to grab the last guy as he pulled out a gun by throwing him into the bars of the railing.

Walter grabbed my hand tightly and began running through the corridor. We shoved aside some lady walking with a stack of papers and then ducked behind some cover when Abstergo agents began open firing.

Walter pointed to a glass wall not far from us. The stray bullets from the agents' guns shattered it, and we leapt through, landing on a narrow pathway surrounded by trees. The Abstergo men didn't notice us until our fists slammed into their jaws. Men in white lab coats recoiled as we sprinted past them. After turning a corner and seeing no one, Walter and I stopped to catch our breaths. I had no doubt that there were cameras trained on us though.

"Who the bloody hell is Seventeen?!" Walter gasped, leaning against the wall.

"Desmond," I replied. "He was captured here. Named 'Subject Seventeen' by Abstergo. These're the guys who took Jeremy and made you come back, albeit not in the same country."

"Then where are we?"

I paused. "Italy. We're in Italy."

Walter swore. He must've known his geography well. "We should try to find weapons," he suggested. "Those sticks that the guards carry should suffice. Those guns seem quite up-to-date as well—."

"I'll settle for the sticks," I said. "I won't kill again."

Smiling softly, Walter nodded. "Of course. Then just leave the killing to me."

"I'll grab their attention, you take the shots," I responded.

Walter nodded curtly, and then we were off again. We moved slowly through the halls, ducking behind corners and into the shadows whenever we saw anyone. They knew our positions, so I was right about the cameras.

We eventually found two Abstergo agents scratching their heads and swiftly knocked them out. I removed the magazine from the second gun and handed it to Walter, giving him a quick tutorial while I was at it of how to reload the weapon, and then I grabbed the flimsy and dumb-looking baton-like stick. Walter grabbed one for himself, his new gun sitting firmly in his left palm.

I beckoned for Walter when we found a sufficient hiding place for the time being. Everyone would be focused on Desmond until they could get him under control, and then they'd be after us.

Agents began appearing more frequently. I climbed up the walls, waited for them to be beneath me, and then lunged at them. The five of them were caught by surprise as I barrelled into two, and before they could react Walter shot the remaining three. Walter even shot the two unconscious men in the head to ensure we wouldn't be followed.

As we turned another corner, Walter just barely managed to parry a blow to his abdomen, and he quickly returned the favour three times harder. The agent crumpled into a ball on the ground, holding his stomach, but we didn't move on until he was dead too. My creed spoke against such killings—he was on the ground and no longer a threat—but Walter wasn't part of that. He wasn't above it, neither below it, but he lived with different rules than I had, so I didn't stop him.

We engaged yet another large group of agents. I could easily deflect their blows and attack, but the stick was extremely uncomfortable and hardly a tool for mutilation. I smashed it across the face of one, breaking it in half, and ducked underneath another stick. Walter smashed his forehead against the nose of another agent, effectively breaking it, and then twisted the man's wrist. He released his weapon, and as I stood up from ducking Walter threw the weapon to me. I caught it in the air and slammed it down onto the arm of the agent who'd attacked me, breaking his arm and the new stick. I grabbed his own before Walter came around and shot all the men in the head.

We turned one more corner before I stopped dead in my tracks. I shoved Walter out of the way as gunfire erupted from the hallway, and we ran as fast as we could away from Daniel Cross.

I hissed suddenly, pain flaring violently in my arm. I clutched my right arm with my left hand. I didn't need to know I'd already been hit by the Assassin-turned-Templar.

"Run faster!" I exclaimed as another volley of bullets shot down the hallway.

We careened around a corner, our pace quickening as Daniel hurried after us. We dove behind cover and remained silent, awaiting Daniel. He continued, his gun firing at our cover. When he got close enough Walter and I shoved our cover at him and made a run for it. He grunted but hardly slowed.

Eventually, we reached a dead end. Only a window separated us from the hallway and the room full of the Animi. Daniel slid across the floor as he came to a stop, his gun pointed at Walter and I.

"End of the line, kiddies," he growled, swiping a hand though his short blonde hair. "Drop your weapons and surrender. I'd rather just kill you, but Vidic's got plans."

"You had no trouble shooting at us before," Walter growled. "Be a man and put that gun down. Or can't you fight with your fists?"

Daniel snorted. "I'm not gonna be goaded on by a guy who died hundreds of years ago."

"Says the idiot who's reliving his ancestor's memories without an Animus," I replied.

Daniel aimed his gun at me. "You're a fucking kid. What the hell would you know?"

I shrugged. "You'd be surprised, Cross."

Reloading, Daniel smirked and then pointed the barrel at me again. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

_**1775**_

"Where are you going?" Ratonhnhaké:ton's voice chimed in my doorway.

I looked back at him and smiled. He was already nineteen, and even larger than before. I found it odd how he could keep growing. I'd held him in my arms nineteen years prior. Now, I doubt I could even shoulder his heavy robes.

"England," I responded, placing my throwing knives into my luggage. "There's someone I feel I need to see."

"Who?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

I paused thoughtfully. "A friend," I concluded.

Ratonhnhaké:ton entered my room and grabbed my bag when I'd clasped the belt on it and shouldered it. "I will see you off then. And when you return, you can teach me more."

I grinned up at the young man. "Are you certain you're not just trying to get rid of me?"

"N-No..."

I playfully slapped Ratonhnhaké:ton's chest (it was the only option, other than his gargantuan shoulder). "Don't fall back in your studies, Ratonhnhaké:ton. And try to remember to keep a low profile, all right?"

"Of course. But can you lecture me when we arrive at the port?"

"Oh, no, I can't. I've got a lot of ground to cover."

Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes widened, and he looked down sheepishly. "This will be a long trip."

_**2012**_

_Bang!_ Walter's gun went off in his hand. Daniel just barely managed to evade it by diving behind the corner. I reached out for Walter so we could escape, but Walter approached the Assassin-turned-Templar at a run. When Daniel turned the corner, his gun primed, Walter was there. He slammed his fist into Daniel's face, staggering the man, and then wrestled for control of his gun. It went off a few times as I ran at the two, each time only barely missing them both.

Walter's knee came up and smashed Daniel's Orelov family jewels. He cried out as Walter smashed his head against Daniel's, and only then did Walter run back to me. I was already past halfway to him, so Walter grabbed my hand and charged to the window. Daniel's gun went off, missing us and breaking the glass ahead.

We leapt from the hallway and grabbed onto some metal bars that held the roof in place. Climbing it, we began to run along it as more shots were fired. We jumped from it onto another one, running further and further from Cross, and then the gunshots ceased.

I pumped a fist in the air in triumph. "Yes! We're getting outta here!" I roared.

I heard no reply behind me, and looked back. I expected Walter's smiling face, laughing at my reaction, but there was nothing.

I halted in my tracks, my heart beating a million times a minute, and looked down.

Walter's body laid on the glass protecting the Animi, bullets riddling his back and blood seeping from his heart.

Walter was dead.


	34. Templar Pursuit

Chapter Thirty-Three:

Templar Pursuit

_**1776**_

The trip to return to America was long and arduous. Especially so, considering the Crown was still at war with "themselves". By the time I'd returned, Ratonhnhaké:ton was awaiting me at the docks of New York. The civilian vessels avoided Boston entirely, and so it was lucky that we were in the same place at the same time.

The trouble with facing Ratonhnhaké:ton was that he was extremely good with detecting when people were upset. Having just watch Walter die, I was beyond upset. I felt like a husk of nothingness. Perhaps the war would be enough to distract me. After all, Ratonhnhaké:ton had involved himself within it enough to have met George Washington, the "face" of the war.

Ratonhnhaké:ton's face was completely serious as he stood on the docks in his navy captain's garb rather than his Assassin robes. His appearance earned a few strange glances from a good amount of the white dockworkers, but he ignored them. When I finally got onto the ramp after grabbing my belongings, Ratonhnhaké:ton had to take a minute to recognize me, despite the white I wore amongst the crowd. I was wearing an outfit he wasn't familiar with: the one I'd been wearing when I left Walter, and when I had held him in my arms as he died. I intended to change as soon as possible.

When he saw me, Ratonhnhaké:ton beamed, startling a few of the dockworkers that were still staring at him. I realized then that Ratonhnhaké:ton had seen twenty years. I needed to get him a gift.

"Sara!" Ratonhnhaké:ton called jovially. "Welcome back!"

I put on the best smile I could and embraced the young man tightly, dropping my bag on the dock. To wrap my arms around his neck, I had to stand on the tips of my toes, but it became easier when he picked me up. But he was choking the life out of me.

When he finally set me down, I took a moment to catch my breath. "God, Ratonhnhaké:ton! You got bigger! How is this possible?!"

Shrugging, Ratonhnhaké:ton replied, "Perhaps you are simply shrinking, Sara."

"Bullshit," I grumbled, crossing my arms. Ratonhnhaké:ton laughed again, and picked up my bag before I could. When I reached for it, he shook his head.

"I am leading you to the _Aquila_," he said. "We are going to Martha's Vineyard to outfit the ship further before we continue to the Homestead. It is a few days out of the way, but it is a trip that must be made."

"That's fine with me," I replied. "I think Mister Faulkner missed me on that ship."

Ratonhnhaké:ton chuckled. "He is a superstitious man, but he is quite the sailor. I value his experience highly."

The _Aquila_ was docked not far from the ship I'd just disembarked from, but since it flew no colours, it was automatically avoided by both the Americans and the British at the docks. Consequently, the sailors themselves had to gather supplies. However, it looked as though she was ready to sail.

"Mister Faulkner! How much longer until we can set sail?!" Ratonhnhaké:ton called to his first mate as we boarded (both of us careful to step with our right feet first).

Faulkner waved in greeting. "Only another few minutes to set up the last of this rigging, and we'll be off!" He grinned when I waved back. "Welcome back, Miss Taylor! Hope you don't sink us!"

"He still doesn't like me on board," I mumbled while Ratonhnhaké:ton attempted to hide a bout of laughter.

I managed to snatch my bag from him while he did, and marched towards the hold. When I found a free cot, I threw my bag onto it and began rifling through it. Ratonhnhaké:ton watched me quietly while I pulled out my American Assassin robes, made years ago by his own mother (but, luckily, he didn't know that).

"Why did you change your clothes?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked as I brushed past him.

He followed me quickly up the stairs and into his quarters. "Running around England in a white hood and furs was bound to attract some attention," I told him. "England isn't like America. It's prim and proper and boring. I prefer the New World, with its untamed wildness and honest people."

"But the war has made things difficult."

I shook my head. "Not only here, Ratonhnhaké:ton. People are starving in England to give their soldiers food. Women have to let go of their husbands, fathers and sons, just as the Americans do. The world is equal. But I find that England has too much order. Here, there is a sense of freedom, and one feels as if they have the ability to do whatever they want, whenever they want to, but I hope they have the decency to do good."

I entered Ratonhnhaké:ton's lavatory and quickly changed into my new/old robes. I didn't hear Ratonhnhaké:ton leave quite yet. When I exited with my old robes tucked under my arm, he was leaning against the wall, his tricorn hat tucked under his arm.

"What are you, Sara?"

I tilted my head to the side in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I am part-British, part-Mohawk. Lafayette is French. Washington is American. What are you?"

"I am an Assassin. That's all that matters." I smiled at him, plucked his hat from under his arm and put it on my head. "And now I'm commandeering the _Aquila_. Doesn't it suit me?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled, but didn't answer. He did, however, recover his hat and replace it onto his head as we walked back into the lower deck. When my old robes were packed into my bag, I stowed it and we walked up to the main deck together.

"Mister Faulkner!" Ratonhnhaké:ton called.

"Aye, Cap'n! She's ready for the voyage!" Faulkner yelled back, answering his unspoken question.

"Raise anchor! We're heading to Martha's Vineyard!"

Faulkner mimicked Ratonhnhaké:ton's cry, and by the time the sun hit its peak in the sky, we were on the open sea. Faulkner was at the helm while Ratonhnhaké:ton studied some charts on his desk. I sometimes stepped in to help him with the compass, but otherwise stared out the window, lingering on my thoughts.

I felt as if Ratonhnhaké:ton was about to ask what was on my mind, so I went to his side and fixed his compass again. "If you really must know where I came from..." I revealed his world map from underneath his east-coast map, and pointed. "Ottoman Syria. I'm from the Middle-East. England is up here. France is here. And here's America."

Ratonhnhaké:ton studied it curiously. "You are from very far away. I remember hearing about the Ottomans in my lessons with Achilles though."

"The Ottoman Empire conquered that part of the Middle-East back in 1516, when Selim I was in power. Before then, many people simply referred to it as the Levant. As such, they still go by 'Levantine Assassins'."

"If you do not mind my question, why is someone from the Levant so far away from their home?"

Smirking, I replied, "My home is gone, Ratonhnhaké:ton. The Order is my home now. It has been for years."

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded. "Have you ever thought of settling down?"

"Have you?" My redirection was simply meant to keep Ratonhnhaké:ton from learning anything more about me than I wanted him to. He didn't answer, so I smirked again. "I'm going to see if Faulkner needs me to nag any ghosts off the vessel. Joining us for cards later?"

"I have become better at that game. I am confident that your purse will be lighter at its conclusion."

I laughed, and then stole his hat once more. "Then, Ratonhnhaké:ton, if you win, you can have your hat back."

He frowned, and managed to get his hat back (by having longer arms than me, frankly, and standing from his desk). "I propose a different wager."

"Oh?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled mischievously. "If you win, I will let you steer the _Aquila_ whenever you wish."

My eyes lit up at the opportunity. "And if I lose?"

"You walk the plank." I was about to nod, when Ratonhnhaké:ton's smile widened. "In only your underwear."

"You're an unchivalrous bastard. I thought I taught you better than that!" Ratonhnhaké:ton's cheeks began to redden, but I beamed and held out my hand. "You're on. May as well sign the _Aquila_ over to me while you're at it." When Ratonhnhaké:ton grasped my hand and shook it, I pulled him closer. "You know, men usually buy a girl something to eat, or get her just tipsy enough before they're teased with any of those parts. I'm sure your crew will hate you when they learn of our bet when you lose."

"I doubt I will lose this time, Sara." Ratonhnhaké:ton and I stepped away from each other, smirks adorning our faces. "Much has changed in the past few months you've been gone."

When we reached Nantucket a few days later, I carefully began steering the _Aquila_ around the rocks. It was already well into the night, and Faulkner had mentioned a few times that a storm was coming. Trusting the old man, I relinquished control of the vessel back to Ratonhnhaké:ton, who carefully manoeuvred the ship. We were still a ways away from Martha's Vineyard.

"Ahoy, Bobby!"

I glanced off to the port to see a woman on a raft far from the shore. Faulkner was looking off that way too.

"Who's that?" I asked him.

"Amanda Bailey," Faulkner replied. "Forgot to say, but the Cap'n wanted some information concerning the Templars on the sea. Amanda's a spy for the Patriots, and the innkeeper at Martha's Vineyard."

Ratonhnhaké:ton and Faulkner went to the ship's railing and peered over. "Do you trust her?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

"With my life, Captain." I steered the ship closer to Amanda, and then both Faulkner and Ratonhnhaké:ton helped her up into the ship. She was an older woman (around Faulkner's age), and didn't seem unsettled at all by how she'd been floating on a piece of wood for God-knew-how long. In fact, from the smile on her face, she seemed to have enjoyed it.

"Hello," she greeted. "Name's Amanda. You must be the captain."

Ratonhnhaké:ton bowed his head in confirmation. "Now, what's all this about then?" Faulkner asked the woman.

Amanda looked the sea-farer in the eye. "You stride into my bar off the piss and looking for officers. Days later I start hearing whispers the Ghost of the North Seas stalks the Atlantic once again." Amanda glanced around the ship, admiring it, and then set her sights back on the two men. "The _Aquila_ has returned and I need her help. Nicholas Biddle now sails for the Patriots, captaining the _Randolph_. But the man is raiding up and down the coast 'round Nantucket claiming it's a Loyalist post."

Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes narrowed. "Where is he now?"

As if to answer his question, cannonfire sounded not far from us. We all looked to the bow, where the noise came from.

"Speak of the devil," Amanda remarked.

"Head below deck, Mandy," Faulkner told the woman (earning a smirk from me too). "It's safer there."

"I want to see this myself," Ratonhnhaké:ton said, striding towards the rigging.

I abandoned the helm when Faulkner got there and climbed after Ratonhnhaké:ton. He had already brought out his telescope to survey what was going on through the rapidly-approaching clouds.

As he handed it to me so I could look, Ratonhnhaké:ton yelled to Faulkner, "The _Randolph_ is attacking a merchant vessel not far from here!"

I heard Faulkner curse before he dared speak again. "Your orders?"

"We need to find out what Biddle intends but we must hurry!" Ratonhnhaké:ton climbed down while I continued to peer through the telescope on the mainmast. Fiery, near-invisible sparks were shooting in the distance. Several smaller vessels and one larger one surrounded a ship just larger than the _Aquila_. I swore and climbed down quickly, handing Ratonhnhaké:ton's telescope back to him once he controlled the helm. "What else do you know of Biddle?"

Faulkner snorted, his disdain for the man evident. "All of a sudden Congress has a brand new ship for him to captain. From British coxswain to captain of a Colonial Flagship. Something doesn't add up." Faulkner paused, and then leaned against the railing by the helm. "There's a storm comin', Cap'n. Feels like a big one."

As if Faulkner was the god of storms, rain began pelting the Aquila's sails and the rest of the ship, soaking it further. The waves crashed roughly against the ship, teetering the men (and women) aboard.

"Next time," I said to Faulkner, "don't mention storms. Please. I've had bad experiences with ships and men and storms that involved islands and rum with one of those men."

"If we sink, it'll be your fault," was Faulkner's reply, although he had a smile on his face.

I rolled my eyes, and then had to gain balance as more waves hit us. I heard one of the officers, either David or Richard Clutterback, begin shouting and ringing a bell on the deck.

"Rogue wave off the port side!" Faulkner shouted, pointing at the massive, looming wave careening towards us.

"Everyone down!" Ratonhnhaké:ton shouted.

Men grabbed onto something and covered their heads. I followed suite, but slammed into the railing on the starboard side of the ship as the wave hit. I shook my head to clear it, and saw one of the sailors holding onto the rigging, his foot tied in the rope.

"Rogue wave off the starboard side!" My eyes widened as the man's wet hands slipped across the rope in a vain attempt to free himself.

"Heads down!" Ratonhnhaké:ton hollered over the newfound thunder and lightning.

I slid down the railing so I wouldn't have to run down the steps and bolted for the rigging. I heard Ratonhnhaké:ton shouting at me from the helm as I climbed the rigging and grabbed hold of the man, and then the wave hit. I was lucky to have untied his foot and had him tie his arm instead to hold onto the ship when the wave hit.

I slipped, and the wave carried me over to the port side before it crashed down and slammed me against the railing. I gasped for air as seawater found its way into my lungs, but was otherwise all right. The sailor was climbing down from the rigging and making his way across the deck to tie some of the ropes that had come loose. I got to my feet just as another rogue wave was announced, and that time managed to stop myself from hitting any of the railings; rather, I hit the stairs.

"When we get back to port, we're padding this entire ship!" I shouted up at the captain and first mate, who couldn't help but laugh at me.

We reached the merchant ship in time to see the _Randolph_ escaping. The merchant ship was still largely intact, but against all those schooners it wouldn't last much longer.

"The _Randolph_ has turned sail. Do we chase him?" Faulkner asked.

Ratonhnhaké:ton shook his head. "We cannot leave this merchant vessel to the mercy of the English."

Faulkner swore again. "Why is Biddle doing this? Nantucket is for the Patriots!"

"The company he keeps tells me his true allegiance lies elsewhere." Ratonhnhaké:ton went hard to starboard, aiming the _Aquila_ at two of the schooners. Before they even knew we were there, the schooners were rammed and sank into the sea. Ratonhnhaké:ton ordered the cannons to destroy the other two, and they were done with quickly.

A cheer rose from the merchant vessel as the sailors tossed their hats into the air. We roared back, waving.

"A salute to us sir. They're safe. What now?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton's face turned grim as he spun the wheel in the direction that Biddle had gone. "Pursue the _Randolph_."

We had to avoid more rogue waves and hold on for dear life, but when most of the rogue waves had gone, cannonfire erupted. Several shots flew just over the Aquila and landed harmlessly in the stormy water.

"Who are they?!" Ratonhnhaké:ton exclaimed, ordering a volley of shots on the first of the three frigates.

"More English by the cut of their jibs!" Faulkner ordered one of the Clutterback brothers to dim the lamps to make it more difficult for the frigates to aim at us.

"Where is the _Randolph_?!"

"He's gone, Captain. Cut and run. Left us to deal with this rabble." A large wave slammed into the side of the _Aquila_, making most of the sailors (and myself) lose their balance. "But this storm concerns me a great deal more!"

Ordering our heads down again, Ratonhnhaké:ton crouched next to Faulkner and hissed, "We have little choice!"

"Aye." When all were standing again, Faulkner continued, "Time your shots between the waves, sir! Then we _must_ find shelter or it won't be cannon fire that ends us!"

One of the sailors on the swivel guns screamed and fell backwards as a cannonball ripped through his leg, severing it and taking it off the ship. Blood spurted from his wound as two other men quickly dragged him below deck for emergency medical treatment.

"Sara! Get on that gun!" Ratonhnhaké:ton ordered. I nodded, grabbed the gun and reloaded it. "On my signal!" I waited, aiming for the front of the frigate where the gunpowder was stored. "Fire!"

I fired the gun. The shot, I thought, had gone wide, and then the vessel exploded, basking us all in the fiery intensity of its splintered masts and burning crew.

"Aim for the bow! On the gun deck!" I hollered.

"You heard the lady! The front of the ships!" Faulkner cried.

The man on the other swivel gun fired, and expertly hit the frigate. It exploded just as well, and as the third and final frigate made to pass Ratonhnhaké:ton ordered the cannons to fire. Our cannonballs tore through the meagre defences of the remaining frigate, and some of the men chose to abandon ship rather than be caught in the rigging.

The crew of the _Aquila_ cheered loudly, almost as loudly as the thunder around us, but when it boomed and lightning landed close, the cheering died.

"I'd say it's high time we find some cover from this storm Cap'n!" Faulkner suggested wearily.

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded. "I agree, Mister Faulkner! We make for the Vineyard!"

Ratonhnhaké:ton spun the ship's wheel until he saw an area not far from us that the storm had already passed over. Ordering full sails, we were out of the storm in no time. A silent but collective breath of relief was uttered by the _Aquila_'s crew as we watched the continuing storm. The only downside was that it was still raining heavily.

"I have never seen weather like that," Ratonhnhaké:ton muttered as he watched it with me on the quarter deck.

Faulkner strode over. "It's rare, but it happens." He clapped the young man on the back. "You did well. What's bothering me is Biddle's a Patriot now. Why's he helping the British Navy like that? Old friends maybe?"

"How would you convince the Continental Congress that the Navy needs more ships?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

"The rash of British raiding along the coast is reason enough to address the gripe. Gunboats at the Vineyard, now this..."

"Hm..." Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled, coming to an answer. "Biddle aims to be the first Admiral of the Colonial Navy and is making a case for the need."

"That was some daft sailing, Captain!" I jumped at Amanda's voice. Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes widened, but he remained composed and faced her. Faulkner spun to see the woman. "I was watching from the gun deck."

"What were you doing on the gun deck?! I told you to stay out of harm's way!"

The woman scoffed at Faulkner. "I'm fine, Bobby. Not to worry. The people of Nantucket are surely grateful. And so am I. Glad you're back."

Faulkner's chest, I noticed, swelled slightly at the praise from Amanda. I smirked at him again.

"Oh? And who's this?" Amanda held out her hand to me.

"Sorry; I'm Sara Taylor. I'm part of the same group that Ratonhnhaké:ton—Connor—and Mister Faulkner belong to." I shook the woman's hand. She surprised me with her strong grip. But, as an innkeeper, I supposed she had to be strong.

"Amanda Bailey. A real pleasure." She smiled kindly. "Now, what're you doing on this ship with all these smelly men?! Let's go below deck; I'm sure you need some quality time with a woman!"

As Amanda dragged me off, I pleaded with my eyes to Ratonhnhaké:ton to help. He crossed his arms over his chest, smiled, and then removed one of his arms just enough to wiggle his fingers in farewell.

It was revenge for winning that card game. I just knew it.


	35. The Secret of the Shadow-Step

Chapter Thirty-Four:

The Secret of the Shadow-Step

_**1776**_

"Achilles has a mission for us."

Ratonhnhaké:ton stood just a few feet behind me as I sat on the outcropping of rock that overlooked the _Aquila_ on the hill. My thoughts had been with Walter, and then the _Jackdaw_ and her captain, but with Ratonhnhaké:ton's information I brought my mind back to the here and now.

He had grown once more in the few weeks I'd found myself back in America. I had hoped it was the last time, but his shoulders were broader, his chest wider, and his middle slender yet muscular. Ratonhnhaké:ton wasn't like many other Assassins I had ever served with before. While they'd relied on stealth and guile, Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't so much. He preferred to be in the midst of battle with his enemies, but if silence was called for, he would relent.

"Did you hear me?" Ratonhnhaké:ton prompted gently as he sat beside me, removing his bow and placing it beside him so he could sit comfortably.

"I did," I replied, nodding. "I was just... thinking."

"You have done much of it within the past few weeks." Ratonhnhaké:ton lowered his hood. "It worries me. You are of action, not of thought."

"Gee, thanks." I looked at Ratonhnhaké:ton, who blushed sheepishly as he realized his words. I reached into one of the pouches on my belt and grabbed a small beaded tie to go around his bicep. "I made this when I saw that your other one was almost falling off. It was for your birthday, but I missed it, so I spent a while making sure it was right."

Ratonhnhaké:ton held out a hand and let me place it in his palm. He smiled as he examined it. "The design is accurate, and it seems very sturdy. I thank you for this gift."

I grinned at him, and then stood up. "Now, what's this mission that Achilles wants us to do?"

"It is in New York," Ratonhnhaké:ton explained as he fastened the tie around his left arm to replace the aging one. "I sent Jacob Zenger, a new recruit, to scout the warehouse. We are to retrieve plans from the warehouse. He did not specify what their origin was, but I am confident that it is plans of the Templar kind."

"And what did Jacob report?"

Standing, Ratonhnhaké:ton answered, "It is guarded by few men, but they change shifts frequently. There is a hatch to enter from the rooftop, but we must be swift and silent if we do not wish to be discovered."

"That'll be easy then." Ratonhnhaké:ton picked up his bow and slung it across his back. "Would you prefer going by carriage or ship?"

"Ship's faster. May as well get it done. After all, you've Templars to chase."

"We both do."

_**1247**_

It had already been a few weeks since Abbas' death. During that time, Rami and I had aided the villagers to properly bury their dead (caused by Abbas' reign), rebuild their homes, and organize trade within Masyaf once more.

I recognized some of the Assassins from twenty years ago. They had grown older, and now had families of their own. I had no way to explain myself to them for my appearance, so I simply said nothing, and they did not pry.

It seemed that Abbas, despite his hatred for me and his old ways, had allowed women into the Order. They were ridiculed, hated, taken advantage of, but still they persevered. They each had a common goal: be an Assassin, like Suna of the Shadow-Step and Maria Ibn-La'Ahad. For the first time in a very long time, I felt pride at my nick-name.

But still, that darkness I'd felt didn't go away.

I had wanted Abbas to suffer for what he'd done to everyone—what he'd done to me. But Altair granted him a swift death with that "gun" he'd created by use of the Apple. And then I became the Agent of Altair: the person who would protect his family no matter the cost.

So I found myself in the dungeon, sitting across from the cell where I'd been imprisoned for years, staring into it. After twenty years, there was still blood stained on the walls and floors, and the inside of the shackles were layered with the crimson flakes, but it was all brittle to the touch. I wondered what Maria and Altair had seen when they first came through the dungeon for Malik. Was I just another prisoner to them? Another poor soul caught in Abbas' web?

I remembered clearly now what Maria and Altair had said when they returned to the dungeon, both having sprinted there after no doubt hearing from Malik who was in the cell next to him. I wondered what had been going through their minds as Malik explained. What could have Abbas done to their daughter?

I wished I could have held Maria that last time. I wished I hadn't fallen so far into myself that I couldn't come to her aid in time.

I contemplated spitting on Abbas' grave, or digging up his remains and burning them like Altair had done to Al Mualim, but... Regardless of what he'd done, he was still an Assassin. As much as I hated the idea and him, I had to respect that.

"Auntie!" Rami entered the dungeon, his spear slung over his shoulder and his arm raised in greeting. Tazim Al-Sayf, Malik's son (whom he'd never mentioned at all, which was odd), followed him in. The two boys were close, despite how Tazim was five years Rami's senior. Tazim was interested in Rami's spear-play. "What are you doing in this place? I thought you would be celebrating with everyone else! This is your home, after all."

The Assassins had begun a celebration, inviting the village as well, to welcome Altair fully back to the Brotherhood. Unfortunately, this also meant that it was meant for me, as well. An apology, of sorts. Days earlier, I'd been approached by a young woman who wanted to see if I was truly who Altair claimed I was. With my hood up, she could hardly see my face, but she knew it was me. I did not know her, but she explained that when Abbas had taken me prisoner and used me as an example, she had watched me stand up to him. She was the little girl I'd simply glimpsed. I found it odd how she could remember me, but she apologized for not acting—not rising against Abbas. She'd only been a child at the time. Such things did not matter, so to make her feel better, I'd accepted her apology.

"I came here to put some demons to rest," I told Rami.

He tilted his head, and peered into the cell I'd been imprisoned in. "Is this about what Altair said? About the torturer of his daughter?"

I nodded slowly, and gestured to the cells. "I was in there for three years. Two of them I spent... not myself. Tazim, your father was in the cell next to mine. He'd already been in there for a few weeks before I joined him."

Tazim nodded slowly. Every bit of his features were like Malik's, although Tazim seemed softer. He was one of the few true Assassins that remained when Abbas came to power.

"I hardly remember it now, but it clings to my mind like a disease." I paused. "There, do you see the blood on the floor? When I was not myself, I ripped a man's throat open with only my teeth. The rest of the blood is mine. I was tortured every day to serve as Abbas' 'example'. With all my training, my grief overtook me. I could not accept my brother's death."

Rami listened silently, and then feebly asked, "What was it like?"

"It stank, for one." Rami couldn't hold back a snort of laughter at my abruptness. "There was no straw to sleep on. Food was only given if they felt in the mood. Even then, I gave mine to Malik. He was older than I, and needed the nourishment. I know it is not my place to say, but I am glad of the death Swami received. Not Abbas. He deserved to suffer for everything he ever put our families through."

Tazim, once more, nodded. "Enough of this talk; surely you want to stay in happier atmospheres?"

I shut my eyes, taking a deep breath, and then nodded. "Yes. I came to bury that person who was afraid of the men in white, not dwell on them. Moving forward is the only way I can properly respect the memories of my mother and brother, and my uncle."

Rami offered his hand to help me stand, and I gratefully took it. Then he playfully grabbed me and swung me over his shoulder.

"Gah! Rami! Put me down this instant!" I exclaimed, pounding my fists against his back.

"Sorry auntie, but it's Altair's orders." I could see Tazim beaming, and I could only guess that Rami was doing the same.

"I don't care if God himself told you! I'll throw you into a wall if you do not release me!"

Despite my threats, Rami took me outside to the courtyard, where our appearance was met with laughter and the occasional hooting from the drunkest of the guests. And it was hardly the afternoon...

I was suddenly vaulting through the air and landed on my arse in the stone ring. Biting back a shriek of pain, I glared at Rami, who sheepishly shrugged. Maybe he'd thought it was only dirt, but stone hid underneath it. I slowly got to my feet when a man I didn't recognize leapt into the ring, and cheering shot up as people clambered around us to watch.

The Assassin handed his weapons to another, and raised his fists. "I've long been waiting to test the Shadow-Step myself!" he boomed, enticing another cheer from the crowd. "Shall we see what age has done to you?"

The Assassin brought back good memories of when Altair was Grandmaster, and had a party for the New Year, which included competitive sparring. I could remember the awe I'd felt when Altair stepped into the ring and defeated his opponents.

That's when I realized that I needed to become better than Altair to be truly recognized around the Assassins. In the next few years, I'd developed a technique that played with the human senses. It was easy to learn, just difficult to master.

_That must be how I got this damn nickname..._ I grinned, and began discarding my weapons, which Tazim and Rami grabbed for me, and then raised my fists. _My technique. How daft I've been not to have thought about it before._

The Assassin inched his feet further away from me, and then lunged forward to attack.

_**1776**_

"There is something I want to do before we leave," Ratonhnhaké:ton said, gesturing to the west. "Norris has asked for my presence, and my aid. I should attend to him before we make our way to New York."

"If you wish," I replied, and then jerked my thumb to the north. "I'm going to visit Myriam. See if she needs help or anything. I'll be there if you need me."

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded curtly. "Soon, I assure you."

I patted his shoulder and then moved north. I was soon upon Myriam's hunting cabin. The woman herself was nowhere to be seen, but a deer hung on the rack, half-way skinned.

"Myraim?" I called. No answer came back. "Maybe she's hunting..."

I decided to go to her hunting stand. When I climbed to the top, I peered over to attempt to see her. She was slowly wading through the bushes, a buck in her sights, her finger on the trigger. I thought she'd fired first, but thought better of it when she scrambled away from the sound and crouched lower into the safety of the bushes. The buck had fallen.

A cheer came up not far from us. I began treading the trees to get a closer look. Men soon entered my vision, jeering and holding their rifles above their heads as they stalked towards the felled buck. Myriam bristled.

_Don't yell at them don't yell at them don't yell at them—!_

"Hey! Lick-spittles!" Myriam shouted, effectively grabbing their attention.

I facepalmed and groaned in annoyance. The poachers stopped in their tracks, eyes fixing on the lone woman in the clearing, confusion on their faces.

"That's right! I'm talking to you!" Myriam slammed the butte of her gun against the ground. "This here's the old man's land! You've got to ask 'fore you go hunting!"

The poachers approached her, some with grins on their faces. I crept closer through the trees. Myriam raised her rifle and pointed the bayonet at them.

"Any closer and I gut you!" she growled.

One of the men dared take a step closer to her. "Well, we ain't got the time to ask the ol' man if 'e'll let us 'unt. 'Sides, what's 'e gonna do about it? Beat us with 'is cane?"

"Then you probably don't know about the Native Mohawk boy he has stalking these lands for him," Myriam growled. "Connor. That's his name. He's also the one who took care of the poachers from before. Where one of your mates wet himself as he ran through the trees with the bodies of his fellows hangin' from the trees."

None of the men moved. Maybe they hadn't known that it was _this_ land that the story had been about?

"You lying _bitch_!" The man made to step forward, but by then I was already leaping off the branch. My foot narrowly missed Myriam's head as I jumped in-between her and the poacher. I rolled to slow myself and stood, and then cracked my knuckles.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton will understand if I have you men all to myself for insulting Miss Myriam," I said, rolling my neck around my shoulders. "Besides, I need some exercise. Throwing Ratonhnhaké:ton on his arse hardly gets my blood pumping."

The poacher raised his knife as I shoved Myriam back, and then I attacked.

_**1247**_

His fist came flying at my head. I brought my arm up and deflected the blow, and then skirted around him. I focused on masking my presence—merging myself with the onlookers, and staying out of his sight. The Assassin whirled around, expecting me, but I was already behind him. Multiple "ooh"s and "aah"s came from the on-looking Assassins and villagers as I leapt up in the air, planted my feet firmly on his back, and shoved him forward into the railing. When he recovered, he spun again to face me. I was already directly in front of him, planting my foot on the railing beside him, grabbing his head in-between my hands as I pushed off, and then I released him. I managed to twist in the air to land on my knees, but he slammed into the ground on his back, gasping in pain as he did so.

I stood, wiping my gloves with the pretence of dirt. "It appears that age has made a friend of me," I remarked, much to the chagrin of the felled Assassin.

He groaned, slowly getting to his feet, and then he faced me. I remembered when Altair had fought. He always had offered a few words of advice to the Assassin he'd faced.

"Stop focusing so much with your eyes," I told him. "Use your senses and your instincts. They will not fail you."

He nodded, and then hobbled out of the ring. A younger, female Assassin jumped inside. Her eagerness was evident, as she beamed when she raised her fists.

"I look forward to introducing you to the ground!" she goaded.

I could see bets being laid around the ring. I shrugged and raised my fists in reply. "But I don't want you to feel lonely. It's your friend, after all."

"Ha!" She lunged at me with a kick. I ducked, spun underneath, and then raised my arms across my chest to block a kick there. She shoved me backwards, and then jumped forward, her fist raised and primed to smash my face.

I launched myself forward, fell onto my knees and slid underneath her. When she landed, I swept a leg underneath hers and planted my foot against her back. She struggled for only a moment before she realized her defeat.

"You're fast, but you need to focus more on your blind spots," I said, offering her a hand as I took my leg back. "Work on defence for a time, and then come find me again. It should be longer next time."

She took my hand and stood, bowing curtly, and then left the ring. The last person who jumped in was Rami. He was grinning boldly.

"Auntie, I can't really use my fists, so would you allow me my spear?" he asked, brandishing the weapon.

I nodded. "Of course. It's nothing I can't handle."

Rami charged without another word, thrusting his spear at me. I danced out of the way, got my hand underneath the tip of the spear and slammed it upward. The middle of the spear slammed him in the face, but he gritted his teeth and ignored the pain to spin the weapon.

But, much to his despair, I was already gone.

Using the crowd's presence to my advantage, I slipped behind him and caught the spear. I negated the weight of the spear to use Rami's, and then smacked Rami in the side of the head with the weapon. He whirled, intending to catch me, but I eluded him once more. I leapt onto his back, grabbed his spear and yanked backwards. He was unintentionally choking himself.

Rami automatically fell to his knees. He'd been taught in Alamut that, if his opponent in sparring got the better of him, to get on his knees to signal surrender. Satisfied, I released the spear and took a step back. Rami dropped the spear, massaging his throat, and then looked at me.

"How did you do that?!" he exclaimed.

I offered him a hand to get up. "Years ago, I was given the nickname 'Shadow-Step'. I had thought it was because of my silent kills. But no; it turns out that there are people who can witness my movements in a fight, however rare they are. There is a technique I use to merge my presence with everyone else's, so it is best to fight in a large crowd. As long as there are others, you will not sense me. I am a ghost to you."

Rami's eyes widened. "Right... Suna of the Shadow-Step."

I nodded. "Indeed. Now, I want you as well to focus more on defence. And stop putting everything you have into one attack! You'll get yourself killed!"

He nodded in return, grinning as he did. "Yes, auntie."

_**1776**_

"How on God's green earth did you manage to knock out seven men?!"

I shrugged at Myriam. "I'm in the same profession as Ratonhnhaké:ton. _Someone_ had to train him, after all."

Myriam scratched her head as we made our way back to her outpost, the buck slung across my shoulders. "Still, you're fast. And quiet. Ever hunted before?"

"With the Mohawk, once," I told her. "Good times. I learned a lot from them."

We reached her hut. Myriam gestured for me to leave the buck by the door. I did so, and then check to see how much blood stained my furs. Hardly any, so I shrugged it off and grinned at Myriam.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton and I are leaving for New York for a while. Should be back within a few days though. I'd suggest leaving ammo and guns in the trees, so if those poachers return, you can give 'em a bullet in the arse."

Myriam smiled, shook her head, and then clapped my shoulder. "All right. You two be careful then. Just try not to get into too much trouble."

I put a hand on her shoulder as well. "We won't. It'll be a breeze. Trust me."


	36. Ambush and Rescue

Chapter Thirty-Five:

Ambush and Rescue

_**1776**_

Ratonhnhaké:ton led the way on the rooftops. The singles hardly betrayed us as we ran and snuck across them, avoiding and evading the guards patrolling around. Under the cover of night we traversed to the warehouse not far from the docks, but we needed the height to see what kind of cover would be offered to us and how many men were guarding the warehouse.

We came to a stop at the edge of a rooftop and hid behind its chimney. Ratonhnhaké:ton took in the guards while I searched for alternate paths.

"Fourteen men outside," he noted aloud. "If what Jacob said was true, they should be switching shifts every three hours."

I nodded. "We'll wait until a new set of guards has been introduced, and then wait another two hours until they begin to bore. As for routes..." I pointed to the water. "See that? There's a funnel of sorts. I'm betting it's big enough for us both. Or there's that open window on the side."

"We can use the water to enter, and escape through the window." I handed Ratonhnhaké:ton a satchel. "What purpose will this serve?" he asked.

"To put the plans in and anything else we find inside," I told him. "If we lose even a page, it'll be for nothing."

"True." Ratonhnhaké:ton adjusted his bow to place the satchel underneath.

We waited several hours before Ratonhnhaké:ton and I slid down the rooftops and leapt into the water. We dove underneath the docks and eventually found the pipe. Ratonhnhaké:ton let me go first, so I hurried and eventually found a grate. Waiting patiently for the men above to shuffle away, I pushed upwards and crawled out, taking deep, slow breaths. Ratonhnhaké:ton imitated me as he emerged from the water as well, and then we replaced the grate.

I put a finger to my lips. Ratonhnhaké:ton quietly shuffled behind me as we hid behind some crates. Mercenaries slowly paced around, some talking, others staying quiet. When most had gone off in different directions, Ratonhnhaké:ton and I hurried forward and killed the few remaining men guarding the plans.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton!" I whispered, pointing to a box on the table. I recognized the markings, and so did he. "Doesn't this belong to Oiá:ner?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded. "I was not made aware that it had gone missing."

"We'll take it too." I grabbed it and shoved it inside of the satchel as Ratonhnhaké:ton grabbed the plans. They looked like they were...

_Those are blueprints for the _Aquila_!_

Ratonhnhaké:ton noticed it too. "It looks as though these people wanted to create their own _Aquila_..."

"Bastards," I growled.

Ratonhnhaké:ton unceremoniously shoved the papers into the satchel. "I think that is all. We should return—."

"There they are!"

Men converged on us, roaring, their guns primed and weapons pointed at us. Ratonhnhaké:ton swore in his native language while I cussed in English.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton," I whispered, "make a path and get out of here. You've got the satchel. I'll cover you."

Ratonhnhaké:ton glared at me and opened his mouth to argue, but the men attacked. We dodged out of the way of the bullets and the blades, parrying them and blocking, and then Ratonhnhaké:ton broke through. I followed him as we climbed to the second-story of the warehouse. The window was still open.

Ratonhnhaké:ton leapt out of it and landed in a passing haystack. I had my foot on the windowsill, but a man had caught up as I'd slowed for Ratonhnhaké:ton and grabbed my shoulder, yanking me backwards. I hit the floorboards and fell through, slamming my back onto the stone of the first floor.

_Boot! Incoming!_

I rolled to the side, my back screaming in pain as the mercenary's heel came down where my face used to be. I unleashed my shortblade and hidden blade, ducking under the sharper weapons and dodging the bullets by using the mercenaries as shields, but slitting throats where I could.

The butte of a rifle slammed painfully into my ribs, and then another hit my face. I felt blood spurt from my nose as another rifle careened into my back, shoving me forward onto the ground. The mercenaries straddled my arms behind me and tied them, discarding my weapons, and then they put a sack over my head after tying a cloth around my mouth so that I was biting on it.

"Boss ain't gonna be pleased when 'e finds out those plans're gone," one of the mercenaries said. "Or that box."

"Doesn't matter. We got one of the thieves," another replied.

"Oh? Really, now?"

The last voice was new, and it was followed immediately by the screams of the mercenaries. When all were finally dead, a new set of hands grabbed my arms and hoisted me to my feet. I bit back a cry of pain when my ribs moved, but the stranger noticed.

"How very... unchivalrous of them." The stranger suddenly swept me off of my feet (not in a good way, mind you—even if there _is_ a good way). "You need medical attention. Please excuse my haste, but I'd prefer you get looked at as soon as possible."

I made a pathetic attempt to speak, but was hindered by the cloth tied around my mouth. The man deftly made his way out of the warehouse through the front doors. I heard groaning outside, and assumed that he'd either killed or maimed the other mercenaries. But why? Was he after the same things that Ratonhnhaké:ton and I had just taken?

It was a while later (with my ribs still sore from the guns and my nose still bleeding, unfortunately) that I heard a door opening after the stranger had knocked on it.

"Dear God, sir... What is this about?" a man asked. He sounded London, like the stranger.

"She was beaten by the mercenaries at that warehouse. They called her a thief, and apparently she has an accomplice. From her garb, she appears to be Mohawk, but she's too pale—."

"And what of those blueprints sir?!"

The man paused. "Another opportunity will present itself. For now, would you kindly move? There's a chill in the air, and she's injured."

The man begrudgingly moved to the side to allow the stranger access. I was immediately set on a bed and untied.

"Charles, fetch Benjamin for me. We'll need a doctor's eye," the stranger instructed the other man.

Charles marched off without a word. He reminded me of a child, honestly. And I didn't even know the man.

The stranger finally removed the sack from my head. I had to blink to focus my eyesight to the candlelight. When they focused, however, I nearly screamed in shock.

The stranger had the familiar nose, jawline and lips that appeared to run in his family. He was far more tanned than his father, but less so than Ratonhnhaké:ton. A blue tricorne hat adorned his head, and his greying hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a red ribbon. A faded white eagle was prominent on the blue of his left cuff on his overcoat, and a broken Assassin's insignia was strapped to a blue bracer on his right arm, no doubt holding a hidden blade.

Haytham Kenway removed his hat and tipped it at me, and then tucked it underneath his arm. "Apologies, miss. My name is Haytham Kenway. Welcome to my home."

_Well, shit._

_**2009**_

I took a deep, long breath of the air around me. The sights and smells of New York pleasantly assaulted my nostrils. The sounds of the typical honking and yelling from the New-Yorkers made me grin. It honestly reminded me a lot of Europe. The people had yelled at each other back then, too, although hot dogs weren't exactly common then.

I was very rudely interrupted from thinking by my phone. I sighed, dug it out of my jeans' pocket and hit the talk button.

"Yep? What is it?" I asked.

Simon was on the other end, no doubt on his headset in the van he'd parked a few blocks from my current location. "We got a call from an Assassin. She said her niece, also an Assassin, is wounded in a house near you."

"You're making it sound like a movie," I remarked. "Where?"

"I'm uploading the location to your phone." I waited a few seconds before an e-mail popped up. I read it and kick-started the engine of my motorbike. "Did you get it?" Simon asked.

I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me. "Yeah. I did."

It took me all of ten minutes to get there, even speeding. That said a lot for how far the rest of the Assassins were from that location. Then again, the Assassins were currently few and far in-between. It was the reason why the Assassin parents were training their kids. Back when I was a child, such a thing was common, but I knew that desperate measures had been taken to ensure the Order's survival.

The only reason we still had connections and technology, not to mention money in the Brotherhood was largely due to myself. Years of hoarding plates and forks had paid off, and the results were in my many bank accounts.

I hadn't put a helmet on to begin with, so it was hardly an issue when I ran into the ornate house outside of New York. If it wasn't for the bloodstains and the bodies, the place would've looked nearly untouched.

I knew immediately who was the Assassin: the only one on the floor who was breathing. That, and she had a phone in her hand, which she had likely used to call for help. I crouched near her and examined her quickly. She wasn't dressed in Assassin gear; in fact, it looked like she was dressed for a special occasion, make-up, dress and all. Three other corpses were near her. One being that of an older woman whose throat was slit, one of an older man with a knife through his back (which had pierced his heart), and the last was of a young man with a sword through his chest. The walls were adorned with swords, so it had been a deathtrap.

"All right, missy," I said, picking her up and grabbing the car keys from the dish near the front door, "somebody needs to get to a hospital, and it ain't me. So guess who's the lucky winner?"

She groaned painfully. Her brown hair was streaked with sweat, sticking to her forehead, and her make-up was running with tears. Her shoulder was bleeding badly. It reminded me of my own wound, old as it was, but I didn't dwell on it. I unceremoniously put her in the backseat of the sleek Mercedes that the people inside had owned and then hopped into the driver's seat.

"Hold on, kid," I grumbled, adjusting the mirror so I could see her. "I'm gonna get you there quick."

The trip was faster than getting there. Immediately (due to a call from Simon), Assassin-sympathizers rushed to the car and carefully placed the Assassin into a gurney. I decided to stay with her and abandoned the car. She was brought up to a hospital room where a doctor immediately began stitching the wound, and another was writing quickly on a clipboard.

A man and a woman burst in. I immediately grabbed my hood and brought it up over my face. I knew them. Heather Reynolds and Stephen Hale. Stephen was a close friend of the current de-facto Mentor, and in his good graces, but it was my own money that the Mentor was giving to his family, the Hales. After all, it was for Assassins, and with three teens at home they kind of needed it. Heather was Stephen's sister-in-law through Heather's sister, Cheryl, who had been Stephen's wife.

Frankly, Heather would recognize me easily. I left... a bit of an impression on her when she was younger. As for Stephen, he'd long been meeting with me. The last time we met was in the early 2000's—at least 2004. And the first time we met was in '88. Bill Miles had asked that he "examine" me and my condition. Frankly, I could pass as the child of the former "Number Four" easily because of how long ago it was. The difficulty was while Heather would buy into it, Stephen wouldn't.

"How is she?!" Stephen exclaimed as he hurried to the Assassin's side.

The doctor sighed. "She'll live," he said, "but one of the nerves in her shoulder were damaged. It's going to scar, and any contact with it will likely cause a fair amount of pain now."

"Damn it, Emma..." Heather paced incessantly, her dark brown hair bouncing with each step she took.

_Emma Hale._ That was the Assassin. I smirked at her unmoving form. She was that kid from the camp all those years ago, almost all grown up. Still an Assassin, too.

"She's okay," Stephen said, stroking the brown stubble on his face, "and that's all that matters."

Two young men burst into the room. One nearly made me jump out of my skin, his resemblance to Darim was so great. The other one held features I definitely recognized. The first had brown hair and the same brown eyes as Stephen, while the other had honey-coloured hair, but still brown eyes.

I left as they came in. There was no longer a need for me to be there. Besides, I had to get rid of any DNA of Emma's or mine before the police caught wind of what had happened. There weren't many cops sympathetic to the Assassins.

_Maybe I should've become a cop..._ I thought as I passed through the door. _At least it would help the Brotherhood a bit..._


	37. Still Not the Damsel

Chapter Thirty-Six:

Still Not the Damsel

_**1776**_

"You should be fine. Not much serious bruising," Benjamin Church said, closing his medical bag. "A bit of rest will do you wonders though. So I suggest about a day or two of it."

I inclined my head at the Templar, keeping my mouth firmly shut. He smiled pleasantly and removed himself from the quaint little room. It was obviously to be used for a servant, and so it was modestly supplied with a single bed, a dresser and a nightstand with some candles. Haytham had brought me there so as not to dirty the guest rooms if I was bleeding.

The man himself was standing at the foot of the bed I was sitting on, his hands clasped behind his back and his lips pursed like Ratonhnhaké:ton's when he was thinking or worried. His breaths were quiet but deliberate; he wanted me to know he was there.

"You are more than welcome to stay here," Haytham said, crossing the floor until he stood nearer to me. "You will be moved to more fitting accommodations until you are healed."

I didn't know what to say to the Templar Grandmaster. This was the son of Edward Kenway, and the father of Ratonhnhaké:ton. My hidden blades were still firmly situated on my wrists. With him caught unawares, it would be easy to take his life.

But...

"Or, if you wish, you can remain here. It is entirely your choice." Haytham straightened a bit, probably unused to silence. He was a man of authority and action, as told by the way he held up his nose ever-so-slighty, and the way he stared down at people unless he believed them to be worth his time. "I'll not force you."

"I..." I tried to regain my sense and my breath. The Templar Grandmaster was in front of me. He was a mortal enemy of mine, as an Assassin. But he'd saved me from the trouble of having men attempt to kill me, so it probably counted (for normal people) as saving my life. "Thank-you."

Haytham lowered the tilt of his head slightly. He smirked, satisfied with the few words I'd provided him, and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Putting the thoughts of Templars and Assassins from my mind, I very slowly reached up and laced my arm with his. He strode out of the room, leading me swiftly up the stairs of his large manor (which seemed to serve as a base of sorts for the Templars) and stopped at a room not far from the entrance of his home. It had a larger bed, both a wardrobe and a dresser, two end tables, as well as a small, circular table with two wooden chairs nearby. There was also a fireplace, and the room appeared to be well-used but taken care of, as there wasn't any dirt to be seen. It was about as large as my room back at the Homestead.

"Please make yourself comfortable," he insisted, removing his arm. "I will return with something for you to eat."

I numbly walked over to the chairs and sat down. The Templars had received all this through nearly obliterating the Brotherhood. But now, after Ratonhnhaké:ton's imprisonment at Bridewell and Washington's near-assassination at the hands of Thomas Hickey, they were fully aware of the threat that the Assassins—namely Ratonhnhaké:ton—posed to their precarious control.

Haytham returned with a tray of food for two. Cooked venison with vegetables on the side. I couldn't remember how many times I'd cooked that for Ratonhnhaké:ton after a long day's training. It was his favourite meal.

"I hope you enjoy wine," Haytham said as he placed the tray on the table, removed his hat and sat across from me. "We haven't anything else, I'm afraid."

I shook my head. "No... Thank-you."

Haytham's smirk transformed into a triumphant smile. He reached for a fork and knife, but waited patiently for me. I hesitantly took the others in hand. Two new weapons that I could use to kill him. Two new weapons that I wouldn't do it with.

We were halfway through the meal before I noticed just how much of a predicament I was in. Haytham had dark eyes like Ratonhnhaké:ton, but Ratonhnhaké:ton's seemed mixed with both his and Ziio's...

Haytham wiped a napkin across his lips to rid himself of what grease had been left by the venison, and politely waited for me to finish while sipping wine. I hadn't even realized I'd begun eating. When I finished and tentatively took a sip of the wine, Haytham chuckled.

"I assure you that it isn't poisoned," he said. "It would be a waste."

"A waste of what?" I asked.

Haytham smiled, excused himself, and stood up. His mannerisms, the way he spoke, the dark shade of his eyes... His skin colour was off, but he almost completely reminded me of Walter.

And it hurt my heart.

"I have some questions, if you wouldn't mind?" Haytham's smile didn't leave or waver as he stood close to me, facing me, his arms tucked comfortably behind him. "Why were you at the warehouse?"

I racked my brain for an explanation. None came, so I decided to be honest... a little. "I was sent there to retrieve something. A box."

"And you have an accomplice?"

I nodded. "He managed to escape with it. It's... precious to our clan."

Haytham paced. "So you were only sent there for a box?"

"Yes."

"And did you happen to see any blueprints for ships?"

"Our only focus was the box. I'm sorry."

Haytham pursed his lips and stopped pacing. I could see a familiar gold colour laced into his eyes. Eagle Vision. Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't use it as often as Ezio or even Altair had used it, but I'd seen him track with it. No doubt they had all noticed how bright I was in their spectrum. Altair had been the one to note it. However, I was an Assassin, so I wasn't sure if Haytham knew or even suspected of my allegiances. Maybe he saw me as a target in that Eagle Vision of his, for it was the intentions of other people that Eagle Vision could extract.

"Who are you? What's your name?" Haytham prompted as his eyes reverted to their dark brown colour.

I hesitated, and then gulped. "Kana," I said. "My name is Kana."

Maybe I'd chosen the wrong name, because Haytham froze where he was. Then his index finger hooked onto the collar of his shirt and overcoat, and he loosened it.

"Then you know Ziio, correct?"

I mentally facepalmed. Of _course_ Ziio would talk about me to him! I had no relevance whatsoever, but she still had!

"I think we both know, then, that I _knew_ Ziio."

Haytham sighed. "Yes. Of course. Just as we both know that you aren't part of the Mohawk, yes?"

"And when did that become obvious?"

With a smirk, Haytham replied, "Well, when I realized how pale you were. And when I saw those blades around your wrists... Assassin." He noticed how I froze, and smiled further, but soon he became serious and picked up his hat, spinning it to offer himself a distraction. "I haven't killed you. Yet. Why, I have no idea. I simply haven't. And for that reason I believe you owe me a debt. And I fully intend to collect it at some point."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I have no doubt about that, Master Kenway."

"And as for being an Assassin..." Haytham leaned in close to me. I could smell the wine on his breath, though it wasn't at all overpowering. "When did your Order reform here in the colonies? Who is behind it? Achilles? That boy who killed Hickey, Johnson and Pitcairn? Or is it you?"

"The debt I owe you, sir, is one of action, not of words or information." I crossed my arms. Haytham straightened, looking down at me from his nose. I stood in response. He was taller than me, as was his son (and as had been his own father), but where Ratonhnhaké:ton had no authority to back up his height, Haytham did. Still, I refused to back down. "If the opportunity arises where I can pay my debt with honour, and we become even once more, the only reason I will hesitate my blade is because of my friend's son."

Haytham straightened further, but his shoulders slumped ever-so-slighty. "Ziio's?"

"And yours."

"Connor."

I shook my head. "Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"I may as well just call him 'son' and be done with it..."

"Wouldn't that be repetitive?"

Haytham glared at me. "What would you have me call him then?!"

Smirking, I replied, "Whatever a true father would call their child."

"Connor?" I nodded, which made Haytham bristle in anger. "Then why mislead me with that other name of his, 'Ra-doony-ga-don'?!"

"Ra-doon-ha-gay-doon," I said slowly for the Templar Grand Master. "Because it's his real name. He adopted 'Connor' so people like you wouldn't have to hurt yourself while you tripped repeatedly over his name and butchered it until it was unrecognizable."

Haytham frowned, but otherwise turned his head to the side so he wasn't looking at me. Then he glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

"Until such a time as I have need of you, you are hereby confined to this room." Haytham turned to look me dead in the eye. "You are now a Templar prisoner."

I heard a thump against the manor that Haytham didn't. My mind immediately went to Ratonhnhaké:ton, and I smirked. "I'm sorry, but I'm needed elsewhere, and can't stay. Thank-you for the medical treatment and the food, though. Venison and vegetables are Ratonhnhaké:ton's favourite."

Haytham reached an arm out to grab my shoulder. I ducked underneath it, spun and sprinted for the window. It shattered before I reached it, showering me with glass. I defended my face by throwing my arms in front of myself and then leaped outside into an awaiting wagon full of hay just as an explosion rocked the room. The wagon made off quickly as Haytham landed on the ground, grunting in pain, and the horse pulling the wagon began to gallop.

I poked my head from the haystack and faced the person driving. She was wearing a white dress uniform with gold and red trim, and the white hood over her head was beaked. Her skin was pale as well.

"I'm glad you caught my signal!" the woman yelled back at me as horses passed us, their riders hurrying towards the manor. "I was afraid that you'd be gone with that room!"

"Excellent diversion, by the way!" I exclaimed. "Next time though, try to have a more subtle signal! Haytham nearly caught on!"

"Haytham?! As in Kenway?!"

I nodded, and then clambered to sit beside her on the bench. "Yes. He has excellent taste in wine, by the way!"

_**2012**_

I didn't remember exactly when I'd made my way down to Walter's body, or when the alarmed scientists and guards within Abstergo truly began their pursuit of Desmond, nor the moment when Desmond grabbed my arm and yanked me through Abstergo, towards the entrance—towards escape.

Without Walter.

The image of his body was forever engraved into my mind, as if a welder had burned it there. An arm and both of his legs were broken, as if he'd tried to stop the fall. His back was bleeding, three small holes letting his blood escape his body, and his neck was set at an odd angle. His eyes held no life in them. No memories, no happiness, nothing.

It was as if I had blinked, because next I knew we were standing in front of the Grand Temple. Hadn't we been in Italy a few seconds ago? Hadn't we been escaping Daniel Cross?

_Why did you have to fight him? Why did you have to die... again?_

I could still feel the warmth that had been generated by our hands when he'd grabbed mine. It was as if his fingers were still there, locked firmly in place, never letting my hand go. But I clenched and unclenched my hand, expecting my fingers to touch his, and his hand was nowhere to be found.

As I stared at the entrance, my mind completely and utterly clouded with thoughts of how Walter and I had strolled around together and took in the sights, I felt a jacket fall around my shoulders. I clenched the fabric in my hands, expecting Walter's scent, but it was Desmond's.

I fought back the feelings that threatened to bubble to the surface with every bit of strength I had. Desmond was reminding me (unintentionally) of what had happened with Ratonhnhaké:ton after Walter had died... before. This seemed to be a pattern that I couldn't escape. I realized that anything I did could never break me free of it.

Rebecca hugged me tightly, saying nothing but speaking what everyone wanted to say. When she released me, I stared at the forest floor, suddenly glad that my hood hid my face from view.

"I—." I choked on my words, then tried again. "I... I'd like to be... alone."

Even Bill didn't say a word as they all walked silently into the Grand Temple. I watched them go, slipping into the darkness of the cave.

And then I was truly and utterly alone.

And I couldn't hold anything back any longer.


	38. Past Our Present Future

Chapter Thirty-Seven:

Past Our Present Future

_**1255**_

"Rami!"

I planted my hands on my knees, completely out of breath as I reached him. He stopped in his tracks, kicking up dust as he did, and then turned to face me as I looked up at him.

"It's my decision, Aunt," he stated firmly, but with a smile as if to reassure me. "You've stopped me from joining the Assassins, but I'm still going to become a warrior that my father would have been proud of!"

I squeezed my eyes shut. Rami had just announced in Altair's study that he was leaving Masyaf to go to Alexandria and... and what? He was leaving. He wanted to become stronger, and he believed that, because I hadn't allowed him into the Assassins, he was becoming unable to reach his full potential.

But Rami was just a young man! A boy!

I felt Rami's hand on my shoulder. His bag was slung onto his spear, which was in a special sheathe on his back, and he was wearing the cloth boots I'd given him for one of his birthdays.

"Aunt," he said, "it isn't right that I stay here if I am to be of no use to Altair. I can help people this way. I can do it."

"I-I know you can." I raised my arms and wrapped them tightly around his torso. He returned the gesture. "It's just that it's hard to say farewell so soon..."

Rami pulled away and held me at arm's length, grinning. "I'll return for holidays when I can. You know that. So don't be upset."

I clenched my hands into fists, and then relaxed them as I reached into one of my larger pouches on my wide belt. "I made this for you," I told him. "I... I had a feeling that you would want to leave, so I thought I'd give you a gift..." I slowly handed him a steel dagger with a gold hilt, an emerald at the top of it, and leather wrappings around the grip. I'd spent nearly a year on it for him. "This will grant you luck on your journey. And... If you truly want to be a warrior, no man would leave without a back-up plan."

Rami traced the jewel, his eyes widening, and then gripped it. It fit to his hand well. He smiled, placed it on his belt, and then wrapped me in a hug.

"Thank-you, Aunt," he whispered. "I will take great care of it. We will see each other soon."

I nodded, burying my head into his shoulder. "I hope so."

_**1776**_

"Sara!" Ratonhnhaké:ton rushed over to me as we reached the docks. He was already in his captain's uniform, tricorne hat and all. When he reached the Assassin and I, I waved, but Ratonhnhaké:ton enveloped his arms around me and lifted me up. I was literally frozen in place. He put me down a few seconds later and began to hastily examine me. "Are you all right? What happened back at the warehouse? Why did you not follow me out? Are you wounded anywhere—?"

"Ratonhnhaké:ton!" He stopped and smiled sheepishly. "I'm all right. Just a bit of bruising on my side, but it's minor and will heal with time."

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded, and then looked to the Assassin standing beside me. "Thank-you for seeking Sara out. I would have been lost without her."

The Assassin smirked. "Pleasure was all mine, Connor."

"You will accompany us on our journey back to the Homestead?"

The woman nodded. "Of course. I need those blueprints for the _Aquila_, but seeing how she sails will help immensely in the final stages of building."

We boarded the Aquila, and as we did, Ratonhnhaké:ton and Faulkner were shouting orders to the sailors. We were ready to leave.

I immediately went to the captain's quarters and slumped into Ratonhnhaké:ton's seat at his desk. I had precious few moments to myself in order to think. Haytham would surely remember me if we happened upon each other again. Maybe he'd try to kill me... _No,_ I thought. _I still owe him a debt, and I'd prefer to get that out of the way as soon as possible._

I threw my hood off my head and took a deep breath, letting out a long sigh. Had it still been only a few months since Walter's death? Now that I thought about it, the pain in my heart hadn't dimmed like it had for the others I'd gotten close to. It still ached beyond anything I'd felt before.

Wetness fell from my eyes, and I hastily rubbed away the tears. _Damn. Can't believe I just..._ I sighed again, forcing those thoughts and feelings away. There were other issues to attend to. Walter was dead, and that was that. He wasn't ever coming back, and I'd never meet another like him. Even so, I hoped he wouldn't come back. What would I do if he died in front of me _twice_? It had been hard enough to walk away from him the first time, and hold his body in my arms as the life ebbed from his body...

"Sara!" Ratonhnhaké:ton barged into the quarters. I jumped, startled, but calmed when I realized that we weren't under attack or anything. "I realized that you two had not been properly introduced." The Assassin woman walked in and came to stand at one end of the desk while Ratonhnhaké:ton stood at the other. "Sara Taylor, this is Shay Johnson. She is an Assassin from Philadelphia, come to explore the idea of having an Assassin fleet modelled after the _Aquila_."

I grasped her hand and shook it. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Johnson."

"You as well, Miss Taylor." She nodded curtly, and then removed her hand. "Please, just call me Shay."

"And please, just call me Sara."

Shay grinned. "Well, if that's all you need of me, I'm headed above deck. I enjoy watching the sea."

I nodded as Shay left the room. Ratonhnhaké:ton had his arms tucked behind his back, much like his father. I wondered if he really knew any of the similarities he had with the man.

"We should arrive at the Homestead soon," Ratonhnhaké:ton said as he removed his hat from his head and fidgeted with it. "Are you certain that you are well?"

I stood up and walked over to the window, nodding. "Of course I'm fine. It'll take more than a few green mercenaries to get the best of me. The Templars were just cherries on the cake."

"I wonder if you would want to examine the contents of the box with me? I want to ensure that all is well." I followed Ratonhnhaké:ton to a secret compartment in his desk. The box laid inside. He removed it and placed it on top of his desk, and then placed his hat beside it. "I remember seeing what was inside. It was the reason I sought the Assassins."

Ratonhnhaké:ton slowly lifted the lid. Only the outside of the box was ornate, but a small, clear sphere rested in the box's centre. Ratonhnhaké:ton picked it up and examined it. I thought I spotted designs on it, but I wasn't sure...

"It glowed for me when I touched it before," Ratonhnhaké:ton said. "It sounds strange to someone like you, but I believe the spirit that sent me to you had some connection with this. The Clan Mother guards it well. It must have been sold or stolen by one of my people in an attempt to involve my people into this conflict."

Ratonhnhaké:ton handed it to me. I balanced it carefully, and then shook my head. "What do you mean? That it glows," I reiterated.

"I touched it and it glowed. Like the sun when it reached its apex in the sky."

I began to examine it more closely. "Wait... I recognize this..."

Suddenly, as if it were an explosion of flame, the sphere glowed brightly. I tore my eyes away from it and dropped it on the ground as Ratonhnhaké:ton recoiled from its sudden burst of light.

_**"The key is near! Help Desmond! Find Eve! Do what must be done—!"**_

I kicked the sphere, smashing it against the wall on the other side of the room, but only the wood was dented. The sphere fell silent, though a pounding in my skull found its way to me.

"What just happened—?!"

"_Keep that thing away from me_!" I hissed at the young man, clutching my head. "I _never_ want to see it again!"

I stormed from the room and went below deck as the headache got increasingly worse with each passing second. I collapsed into my cot, grabbed the blanket near it, and hid under it. I had thought my encounters with the artefacts had ended.

I obviously thought wrong.


	39. Ancestry Bites

Chapter Thirty-Eight:

Ancestry Bites

_**1777**_

Once we had reached the Homestead, we copied the _Aquila_'s blueprints and gave them to Shay Johnson, who left for Philadelphia promptly afterward. Ratonhnhaké:ton hurried to his village with the box and artefact, likely to ask the Clan Mother why she hadn't reported it beforehand. Perhaps she hadn't wanted to trouble him...

Anyway, several months passed. If Ratonhnhaké:ton wasn't aiding the Patriots, he was doing smaller jobs around the Homestead to help. I joined him, from building new residences to running errands that people needed done.

I was astounded at how the Homestead had grown. It used to be just myself and Achilles, then along came Ratonhnhaké:ton and everyone else followed. Norris mined the ore that we needed, Lance created furniture, Ellen was an excellent tailor, Myriam was a hunter to rival Ratonhnhaké:ton, Terry and Godfrey got the lumber we needed, Oliver and Corrine ran "The Mile's End" for income, Big Dave smithed whatever was required, Doctor White could help for almost any ailment, and Father Timothy gave everyone their Sunday Mass if they desired it.

The community thrived, as was evident by the amount of people visiting and the income that was put towards making it even better. Speaking of better, Norris and Myriam had just been married, and had the reception at "The Mile's End".

Myriam and Norris were dancing to a folk song together, seeing as it was their first dance as husband and wife. When it was done, we clapped for them, and Big Dave even whistled, which made the two young people blush.

"To Norris and Myriam!" Godfrey cheered, raising his tankard of ale.

The community laughed and joined in on his toast, and there was an immediate need for more ale. I was helping Oliver and Corrine out to serve everyone, so I gave them their drinks. Ratonhnhaké:ton was one of the only people who didn't really drink.

Ellen had revealed the Homestead's new flag shortly before Norris and Myriam's dance. Ratonhnhaké:ton was admiring it carefully, a smile on his face as he did. The music came back up, and then everyone joined in with the merriment. Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't join in; he was too immersed in people-watching.

I smirked, and then placed a mug of ale next to him. He snapped from his thoughts quickly and fixated his dark eyes onto me. I grinned at him encouragingly.

"You look too sullen, even when you smile!" I exclaimed. "You need to put some actions into that grin!"

Ratonhnhaké:ton's shoulders shook in silent laughter, and then he began fiddling with his exposed hidden blade. "This music is not what I am familiar with. When we danced at my village, the movements are different from these ones."

"They have more meaning, eh?" He nodded. I grinned at him. "Well, I'm going to teach you how to do this. You might want some liquor in you first though."

Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes widened, smiling. "_You_ are going to teach me _that_?"

"What can I say? They can't be the ones to have all the fun." I grabbed the mug I had set by Ratonhnhaké:ton and took a long swig. I wasn't very good at holding my liquor, but that bit wouldn't be enough to make me sick at all. "All right! Take a drink and get ready!"

The young man took the mug from my hands and chugged the rest down, and then imitated both Godfrey and Terry by slamming it onto the bar. Luckily though, he didn't belch like the other two. Ratonhnhaké:ton shook his head as I grabbed his hands and dragged him onto the floor, where people surrounded the open area by clapping and laughing with the tune of the instruments playing.

"This is an easy one!" I told him. "It's a lot of jumping and a lot of twisting, but you'll get the hang of it!"

I gave him an example. He grinned, his eyes laughing at me, so I whacked him on the back of his head.

"You try it!" I prompted.

Ratonhnhaké:ton's first few attempts at dancing to folk music were very rigid. He looked like a board being dropped from above when he jumped, and a very confused deer when he spun, so I joined in and grabbed his hands to help him. _Then_ he got the hang of it pretty quickly. Ratonhnhaké:ton even seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Boy needs more ale in 'im!" Big Dave called, prompting some to laugh in agreement.

Ratonhnhaké:ton stole the mug from Big Dave's other hand (the smith had grabbed two when I'd gone by him before) and downed it, giving it back to the man, who had fallen over in uncontrollable laughter. I figured that Ratonhnhaké:ton wasn't very good at holding his liquor either, because his eyes were already a bit foggy.

"Faster tune, man!" Godfrey yelled at the lead musician. "Hurry! We don't get t' see Connor do this often!"

Faster music began playing. Ratonhnhaké:ton adjusted his feet accordingly, his hands tightly gripping mine. We were too busy laughing to realize how ridiculous we looked, and how Oliver and Corrine, and Terry and Diana had joined us in being foolish.

For the moment that we stopped, Ratonhnhaké:ton grabbed some drinks and tried to beat each other in chugging them. I forget who won, but we were back on our feet and spinning continuously.

"Ah shit! Look out—!" Terry's warning came late. Ratonhnhaké:ton's feet tripped me as he tried to focus his eyes on the lumberer, and I fell backward, my back slamming onto a fallen bottle.

The music came to a quick and abrupt stop as my fogged mind tried to register pain. I assumed that I'd missed the worst of it, so I slowly stood. "I'm all right—."

Corrine quickly grabbed my arms. "She's a tad drunk. She can't feel that?"

"Really, I'm—." I hiccuped. "I'm fine!"

"Corrine, take 'er outside. Get that glass out of her back!"

Corrine quickly hurried me through the back door and sat me on a chair. "You wait here, dear," Corrine said. "I'll tell everyone to give you some privacy, and then I'll have Connor fetch Doctor White while I get the first aid kit. Damn shame that the good doctor already retired for the night..."

I tried to stand, but Corrine shoved me back down into the chair. "No! Stay there! I don't want to have to get Myriam to point her gun at you to keep you there!"

When I surrendered, Corrine went back into the inn. She had wanted me to take the few furs I had on off so it would be easier for Doctor White, but the pain of the shattered bottle began to register in my mind and it became very difficult. The most I could do was remove my hood.

I stared at the ground for a time before boots came into my vision. They appeared to have been cleaned recently, since there wasn't much mud on them. I looked up, and into the eyes of Haytham Kenway.

"And here I was out for a stroll," he chided, smirking.

"So... So far from New York?" I asked, trying to control my swaying.

Haytham grinned. "What happened to you?"

"Fell... on a bottle..."

"Ah. It looks like you've also fallen _out_ of one." Haytham crouched and looked up at me. "Do you need help?"

I tried to focus my eyes on the older man. "Will I... be owing anymore... favours?"

"No. This is simply an act of concern." I swayed in the chair. Haytham stood and instructed me to lift my arms. I hissed in pain as Haytham removed the furs. I was too drunk to feel at all embarrassed for being almost naked in front of someone. "You have several interesting scars, Kana. Where did you receive them? Surely not from your time as an Assassin."

I nodded. "B-Before..."

Haytham leaned in close to me, examining my face. "And your eyes. Were you born with them?"

I almost shook my head, but managed to muster enough common sense not to. "Who... Who cares...? Just what are you doing... here?"

"Who cares?" Haytham retorted smartly. I did my best to glare at the man. He grinned at the attempt. "If you must know, an informant told me of this establishment. I came for the food, but it appears I'll be leaving prematurely. I was not told that my son is the one who presides over this place."

I swayed again. Haytham gently caught me. I pushed away from him, but he held on. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?"

"No more... stubborn... than you." I grabbed onto his cape. "I need to... stop you... Templar..."

My grip was surprisingly firm. Haytham stood and tried to take a step away, but threatened dragging me along with him. "Well, I suppose I'll need to find another way to have you release me..."

"Cut off my hand, and even it won't let go, Kenway."

Haytham grinned, stooped, and then pressed his lips against mine. I had to admit, it was an effective way to get me to release him, but even when I did he didn't pull away. By the time he did, I had been the one to push him away, my face red with fury.

The Templar Grandmaster tipped his tricorne hat at me and fled as the sound of horses approached. Corrine opened the back door, the first-aid kit in hand, just as Haytham disappeared, and then Ratonhnhaké:ton came around the inn on horseback, Doctor White following closely.

_Goddamn Kenways..._

_**1256**_

I discreetly rubbed my forehead, masking my face as the guards passed me. When they glanced down at me, seated on the bench, I began twiddling my thumbs as if in thought. They eventually went by, hands on their blades. When all three turned a corner, I stood up from the bench and followed.

The crowd helped immensely as I trailed the guards. I kept my head bowed as I sped up my pace to keep up with them. When they stopped suddenly, I approached a stall in the souk and pretended to be interested in the wares.

One of the guards turned to his comrades. "I don't like this. Aslam Azad has us patrol the soul in hopes we come upon infidels. We have been circling this entire area for weeks, and nothing!"

"You know as well as I do Aslam is fearful for his life," the second guard said. "We have been circling this place and we will continue to circle it until his paranoia is quelled."

"Besides," added the third, "he pays us good coin to work for him."

"Coin that he has stolen from our relatives, friends and neighbours in the first place!" The first guard wiped some sweat from his forehead, underneath his metal helm. "Allah, all I want is for this to end..."

The third guard took a step forward and placed a hand on his comrade's shoulder. "Come now! The captain expects our report soon. We mustn't delay."

The guards moved off. I watched them go, and then began the arduous task of escaping the souk while watching out for the clay pots and urns some people carried. Finally free of it, I inhaled the fresh air deeply and made my way towards the mosque not far from my position.

It had already been a year since Rami left... and a few months since word of his death reached me. He'd been killed when guards in Alexandria swarmed him, calling him an infidel, and they stabbed him to death. They didn't even give the boy a chance for a fair fight.

The letter I'd received from the Assassins in Alexandria was tucked into my belt, having been folded and unfolded hundreds of times as if to confirm Rami's death. When it had been handed to me for the first time, I had stared at it for hours, my eyes lingering on the very first sentence for fear of seeing the rest... and believing it. And then I had folded it, placed it in-between my belt and my stomach, retired to my room and laid there for days. It wasn't until my brother finally picked the lock on my door that I shed any tears.

So I immersed myself into the Assassins once more, taking as many contracts as I could without stopping to visit, hardly sleeping, eating even less... The boy was technically my cousin—my cousin's son—but he felt like my own, likely because I had been the one to raise him. I had been there to lecture, to teach, to praise, and to hold. He had been my son in every way but blood, and I had let him go to die.

_Perhaps this has been a sick and twisted way to teach me that I am unfit to be a mother at all... _

I shook my head to clear it and proceeded to follow the crowds to the mosque. My target would be there, and I looked forward to taking his life.

Because by snuffing out the candle of another's life, I believed I could deal with my grief for my adopted son.

_**1777**_

I crossed my arms and glared at the men in front of me as Faulkner began yelling for us to take off from the New York port. Ratonhnhaké:ton bit his lip and avoided my gaze sheepishly. Haytham's lips tipped to a smirk as he folded his hands behind his back.

"And why, pray tell, is he here?" I asked Ratonhnhaké:ton.

"We are both after Benjamin Church, who has stolen supplies from the Patriots," Ratonhnhaké:ton explained.

"You've met him once already," Haytham added. "How are your bruises, by the way?"

"It was a year ago, Haytham. They're obviously still causing me a great deal of annoyance... like Templars." Haytham smiled at my retort, which only served to further infuriate me. "Ratonhnhaké:ton, I'll be sleeping. Wake me when we've found Church."

"It may be a few days until we find him," Ratonhnhaké:ton said hastily.

I smirked. "Well then, I suppose I'll try my luck with the crew at strip poker. Remember what happened last time?"

(Frankly, what happened last time was that I won. Ratonhnhaké:ton, no matter how big he grew, was still unsure of when to back out of a bet, so he lost.)

Later that night, with most of the men half-naked and grumbling in anger, I realized how late it was and how they hadn't eaten, and were filling themselves with drink to make up for it. I left the game to speak with Ratonhnhaké:ton about it.

I found him in his quarters in a heated discussion with his father. Haytham stopped saying whatever he was saying and pursed his lips, then left us alone.

"What were you two talking about?" I asked.

Ratonhnhaké:ton pointed to the map on his desk. "I think it best if we stop in Philadelphia to welcome Shay Johnson back onto the _Aquila_. He insists that we will lose Church, but my correspondence suggests otherwise."

"Why Shay?"

"She desires to help, and I would welcome it. Our pursuit of the _Welcome_ leaves us very little time to know what accompanies that vessel."

I nodded in understanding. "Very well. That seems reasonable enough."

"What brings you here?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked. "I am certain it was not to interrupt my conversation."

"Of course not," I assured him. "I just wondered if you'd hired a cook after the last one got hit by that cannonball."

Ratonhnhaké:ton paled considerably. "I... was distracted."

I facepalmed and cursed in Italian. "I suppose I'll be the cook this time..."

"I apologize, Sara. I had thought to hire in New York."

"No worries."

Ratonhnhaké:ton stared at the ground sheepishly, removing the tricorne hat from his head. "I have no excuse."

I rolled my eyes at the young man and came forward, taking the hat from his hands and placing it on my head. "Ratonhnhaké:ton, you forgot. All mere mortals do. It hardly matters, anyway. I can cook with what we have."

"I should not have—."

"Ratonhnhaké:ton!" I interrupted him. "It. Is. All. Right."

He smirked and took his hat back from me, but didn't put it back onto his head. "I... I have something that I must say, Sara."

"Oh?" I wondered if Ratonhnhaké:ton was going to tell me about the woman named Dobby Carter in New York. She was a new addition to the Brotherhood, and seemed to get misty eyes when she was watching him, I'd noticed. She was twenty years older than he, but in good shape for her age.

"Yes." I sat on the desk as Ratonhnhaké:ton came around, abandoning his hat on his seat. "I feel that it has been gnawing on my insides for too long."

_Too long? You met the woman about a year ago... _I made no comment and crossed my arms. "Yes?" I prompted.

"I..." Ratonhnhaké:ton took a deep breath. "It is very difficult to form the words..."

I waited patiently nonetheless. Ratonhnhaké:ton took his time as he tried to form those words. Did he feel so much for Dobby? I was excited to be able to see him loosen up around someone else besides me or Kanen'tó:kon.

Ratonhnhaké:ton took a deep breath and stared me in the eye. "I have feelings for you, Sara."

_WHAT?!_

Before I could react or move or just get the hell out of the way, Ratonhnhaké:ton leaned close and planted his lips against mine.


	40. Unwelcome at the Welcome

Chapter Thirty-Nine:

Unwelcome at the Welcome

_**1777**_

My fist collided with the side of Ratonhnhaké:ton's face, effectively launching him away from me enough so I could grab my shortblade and point it at the young man. Ratonhnhaké:ton seemed confused as he touched his cheek and rotated his jaw, and even more so as he spotted my blade.

I was furious. Angry beyond belief. Annoyed and disgusted with myself and raging at the boy. My hand shook, despite how tightly I clasped the shortblade within it. Ratonhnhaké:ton slowly straightened himself and raised his hands, and then took a step forward.

"_Stay right there_!" I snapped, and then tossed a throwing knife at the floor beside his boot. Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes widened. He froze in place, just as I'd wanted him to.

"I thought you felt the same," Ratonhnhaké:ton said slowly. "I am very... confused."

"_You're_ confused?! _I'm_ confused!" Ratonhnhaké:ton took a daring step forward, so I did as well and pressed the point of my blade against his chest.

Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes softened. "Please, Sara. I didn't mean harm of any sort. We should speak rationally. I am sorry I've offended you."

I glared at him, but slowly began to lower my shortblade. "I want to hit you again."

"If it will make you feel better—." Sheathing the weapon, I connected my fist with his gut and had him fall onto his backside, eyes wide with surprise and shock. Before he could recover, I grabbed his overcoat and yanked him towards me so our faces were inches apart.

"I have _no_ feelings for you that way, Ratonhnhaké:ton!" I growled. "Never have, never will! And I'm sorry that I have to tell you like this, but maybe next time you shouldn't go stealing kisses from women!" I shook him, trying to help my message through his thick skull. "I went to England because the man I loved was _dying_!"

The young man's eyes widened and tilted with sadness. I crushed the emotions I'd been hiding from him—from everyone—as quickly as they began to surface as the words spilled from my mouth.

"I _loved_ him! And I watched him _die_! I held him in my arms as the life ebbed from him! I realized that I'd made the wrong choice _far_ too late, and for my own selfish reasons! I was a _fool_ to believe that I was doing the right thing! Is it selfish of me to want a bit of _peace_ from this life I lead?! Is it selfish of me that I try to stop myself from becoming close because people only die in the end?! Ratonhnhaké:ton, I _loved_ him! And I broke his heart as easily as I could break your arm!" I stopped myself, realizing that tears had begun to form, and I shook with unreleased sobs. How could I have been so stupid...? "I'm sorry, Ratonhnhaké:ton. I'm a terrible person. The worst kind of person. The one who abandons others when they become too afraid of themselves. The kind of person who can't see you in the light that you deserve. I..."

Ratonhnhaké:ton was quick to wrap his arms around me and pull me towards him, holding my arms at my sides as he did so. But he made no sudden movements besides that and rested his forehead against my shoulder.

"The apology is mine to give, Sara. I have been blind, and I am sorry for that. I understand if you cannot return my feelings, but please stop pushing me away. I will be there for you as me. Not as a lover, but as a friend that you can rely on." Ratonhnhaké:ton's grip tightened around me. "So please, stop withholding your true feelings. The person you loved died. Grieve, for as long as you desire. I will be right here for you."

_How unfair I am, Ziio..._ I thought sadly as I wrapped my arms around Ratonhnhaké:ton and buried my face into his shoulder. _Please don't hate me. I hope you can all forget about me, before I become too much a memory in your minds._

_**1257**_

"Who?"

Darim gestured with his head in the direction of the two oddly-dressed men. They wore large hats on their heads with feathers, bright and tight-fitting colours on their bodies seemingly obscuring their good sense to blend in. My eyes were wide in shock at the two brown-haired men, who seemed to have a familial resemblance. I didn't think I'd ever seen a moustache so thin in my life...

"They are Niccolo and Maffeo Polo. I met Niccolo and invited them to Masyaf. They only just arrived," Darim explained.

I gestured to the two men. "So I see, brother."

One of the men perked up. He was the one without the thin moustache. "Brother? Ah, so this is madonna Suna? Piacere!"

He quickly grabbed the hand that I'd gestured with and shook it with such vigour that I was staring at him in shock. He didn't seem to notice though.

"I am Niccolo! That is my brother, Maffeo!" Niccolo exclaimed, gesturing to the man behind him (Maffeo was shaking his head at his brother). "We are very pleased to meet you!" I noticed that Niccolo was speaking slowly, so I couldn't help but wonder if he was all rightin the brain.

"Niccolo!" Darim called. "Suna can understand Italian. You don't have to speak so slowly to her!"

Niccolo sheepishly took a step back and removed the ridiculous hat from his head. "Ah. Of course. Mi dispiace, Suna."

I held a hand up while stifling my laughter at Niccolo's expression. "Nessun problema," I told him. My accent was atrocious, but at least I'd gotten the phrase right. I hadn't practiced in a while.

The two men laughed, and then proceeded to pack a carriage full of their belongings. It looked as if they'd stay for a while.

"What are these men doing here?" I asked my brother.

Darim grinned. "Well, I spoke of them to father, and he was the one who asked me to invite them. He wants to induct them into the Order."

"Why?"

"Their ideals are ours. They would make fine Assassins."

I snorted. "Indeed. I think they may need lessons on blending, though."

Darim clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Well, that's what you're useful for, isn't it?"

"That and beating you up, baby brother."

"Ha! And, I suppose, getting angry at me when women come to claim that their child is mine, yes?"

I smacked the back of his head. He cringed and held the newfound sore area. "Stop sleeping with so many women! You're going to have hundreds of little children that will haunt me! It's too bad we cannot see if they're actually yours or not!"

"I swear, I only slept with _one_ of the twelve!"

"_Twelve_?!" I whacked him again.

Darim cradled his head. "D-Did I say twelve? I meant two!"

I jabbed a finger against his chest angrily. "Bullshit, you shaytaan!"

My brother laughed, and then quickly retreated to help the Polo brothers when I almost hit him again. From Alexandria, we'd have to escort them all the way to Masyaf. We'd be slowed by their luggage, but it seemed to be less than I'd initially thought. Other people in the port were grabbing the boxes nearby, and the brothers seemed very attentive to their things, so it was obvious that no one was stealing from them.

Darim hopped onto the driver's seat and grabbed the reigns. "Suna! Are you joining me up here?!"

I shook my head. "No. I'll be sitting at the back. It wouldn't do if we are ambushed, or one of their crates fall from the wagon."

Darim grinned, waited for Maffeo and Niccolo to get on (Maffeo sat in the back with me while Niccolo sat beside Darim), and then began to lead us out of Alexandria.

_**1777**_

We'd stopped briefly in Philadelphia to pick Shay up and re-supply. The _Welcome_ had gone there and continued on its journey south, so we were quick to continue our pursuit.

We caught up to it three days later, but Church had abandoned it for a Man-o'-War. After fighting through several schooners, Haytham got the bright idea to ram the larger ship.

But what really mattered was that Benjamin Church, nearly a week after we'd left to pursue the _Welcome_, was dead now.

And now, we were spending our time trying to unhook our ship from the Man-o'-War. The ropes were tangled and the woodwork was interlocking, but we were almost finished with getting free.

I hadn't really spoken with Ratonhnhaké:ton for a while. We'd both been silent since that time. Haytham had noticed, but said nothing on the topic. That's why I was glad for Shay's company. Besides, Faulkner hardly appreciated a second woman aboard the _Aquila_, and that was fine with both of us.

"We almost out of here?" Shay asked as she joined me on the deck.

I gestured to the Man-o'-War. "Yep. Just a few more minutes, I'd say."

"Thank God," she breathed. "I was worried I'd have to suffer with that damn Templar for a while longer!"

"Well, we've still got to grab those supplies from the _Welcome_ and drop you back off..."

Shay seemed to roll her eyes. I couldn't really tell, since she was wearing her hood. My own wasn't on my head, since I wanted to spend a little time in the sea-spray and the wind.

"If I have to go through one more night of that bastard telling me how idiotic I am...!"

"Could just throw him overboard," I suggested.

Shay grinned. "Yes! We'll make him walk the plank!"

"We don't have a plank..."

Shay snorted, watched me for a bit, and then leaned on the railing with her elbows like me to watch the sea. She pulled her hood off and let her head bounce up and down with the waves.

"I can't stand being in one place at a time. How can you be staring for so long?" Shay asked.

I was really unsurprised to see that Shay had so many features that painted her on one side of my family. Namely Darim's. I took a minute to examine her and noticed the golden snake jewellery on her right bicep. _Ah. She's Sehkat's descendant... Makes sense._

"I have the time to watch and wait." I smiled at her. "So, enjoying your title then?"

"Hm?"

"Your title. The one with that bracelet is adept in poisons... and the courtesan ways."

Shay grinned and examined the trinket in her possession. "No pressure, right?"

"Indeed."

"Kind of like the title you have, huh?"

I smirked at her. "Smart."

"Well, you can only sneak up on me so many times before the legends start to make sense."

"Indeed," I repeated, "Hayya."

"Shadow-Step."

"_Pirates_!" Faulkner's voice cut through the air.

Shay's eyes widened. "Well, I certainly know _that_ title."

"Get to your stations!" Ratonhnhaké:ton yelled as the new, undamaged ship came closer. "Prepare to fight! Get us away from this ship!"

"Aye, Captain!" Faulkner began yelling orders as their men scrambled about the deck. Shay and I grabbed our weapons in the event that the pirates came too close.

"We have _minutes_!" Ratonhnhaké:ton shouted. "_Get us out of here_!"

"I just _love_ pirates," Shay grumbled, and then turned to me as she pulled her hood over her head. "Don't you?"

"Oh, I could do without them for a bit."

It was only the morning, but I could tell that it was going to be a _long_ day.


	41. Dead Women Tell No Tales

Chapter Forty:

Dead Women Tell No Tales

_**1777**_

"_GET DOWN_!"

I slammed into Ratonhnhaké:ton as a volley of cannonballs erupted from the pirate's ship. They soared over our heads, narrowly missing the masts, and landed harmlessly into the water. We scrambled to our feet, Ratonhnhaké:ton grabbing the wheel while I vaulted over the banister and onto the main deck.

"They've got too much speed on us, Captain!" Faulkner yelled to Ratonhnhaké:ton. "Even the _Aquila_ can't outrun them now!"

"Then bring her by the _Welcome_!" Ratonhnhaké:ton ordered. "There is more than enough space to make a stand!"

"Aye, sir! You heard him! Get your stations ready!"

It was as if I'd gone back sixty years, the way I acted on that ship. I grabbed the nearest flintlock pistols and jammed them into my belt, began shoving rifles and bayonets into the sailors' hands, and then pulled Shay Johnson to the side.

"They'll fire once more before they board!" I told her. "When they do, use the smoke to take the men aboard! Have them duck beforehand though!"

Shay nodded and began yelling orders to the men. I ran to the pulley at the foremast and used it to shoot myself up to the top. Traversing the ropes, I made it to the crow's nest with very little time to spare.

"Fire from up here! But take cover!" I ordered the sailor there.

He nodded and took hold of his rifle. I hid behind the mainmast, awaiting the barrage of cannonfire to come. When it did, I found myself gripping the mast so as not to fall. The pirate ship's hull ground against ours, but Shay was on top of it and leapt to their side before they could board. She killed three pirates before the sailors could rally with her.

Ratonhnhaké:ton leapt onto the deck of the opposing ship and brought his tomahawk onto the blade of an enemy's sword. Haytham even joined the fray, his sword spinning in quick, precise movements.

I wrapped a rope around my arm for grip as I spotted the pirate captain. His flintlock was out, aiming at Haytham. I felt a hesitation and almost a hope that the captain would fire and kill Haytham, but that damned debt got into my mind and I swung downwards on the rope towards the pirate captain, my sword brandished in my free hand.

To grab his attention, I threw a throwing knife at his boot. He jumped and focused the pistol on me. His flintlock wasn't even a very good one and would almost surely miss me, but he somehow managed to hit true.

The bullet shot through my head, narrowly missing my brain. My hold on the rope released, and I landed on my back on the top deck of the enemy ship. I was thankful that my hood was up, but it still hurt like a bitch.

The pirate placed his boot on my chest to stop me from getting up and pointed his second pistol at my face. I flicked my wrist and buried my hidden blade into his leg. He screamed in pain as I shot to my feet and slid my hidden blade across his throat, killing him. Scooping up my fallen sword, I slid down the banister and joined the battle. My head was pounding in pain and blood was leaking into my eye and almost surely staining my hood, but the crew needed me. We were outnumbered and outgunned, and no shot to the head was going to make me curl up into a ball.

I Ghosted past one of the pirates and stuck my sword through another's gut. I shoved the tip of the blade into the nearest mast, planted my boot against the still-living man and ripped the blade from both the mast and his stomach. His blood mixed with the sea-spray that found its way onto the deck as he desperately attempted to shove his entrails back into his body.

A pirate ran at me, put a quick shot from one of my flintlock pistols put him down. I blocked an incoming sword with my own, spun, and sliced the tendons across the back of the pirate's thighs. He crumpled to the ground, screaming in pain, and I shoved my sword through the back of his throat to shut him up.

The ship rocked violently as the powder kegs in the hold began exploding. I figured it was Ratonhnhaké:ton's doing, seeing as he wasn't on the deck. Shay managed to fling herself onto the Aquila as the pirate ship began taking on water. The pirates either stayed to fight or tried to take their chances swimming in shark-infested waters.

I fired my second flintlock pistol and discarded it by slamming the butte of the weapon against another man's skull, crushing it and sending pieces of the bone into his brain. Another roared and lunged at me, pinning my arms to my side as another pirate shot me in the back. I roared in pain and buried my hidden blade into the first man, and then tossed a throwing knife into the eye of the other. Another keg exploded as Ratonhnhaké:ton escaped from the inside of the ship.

"MAST!" I hollered at him.

He didn't seem to understand me, so I grabbed him and shoved him towards the _Aquila_. The falling mast narrowly missed him as he clung to the railing of that ship.

Ever had a few tonnes of wood and splinters fall on you before? I can tell you with honesty that it isn't pleasant.

It felt as though my back and my ribs were crushed with the sheer force of it. Breathing hurt, and I couldn't stop the sea-water from entering my mouth. When the deck was almost submerged, one more keg went off and its explosion tossed me from under the water over to the _Aquila_ (mercifully), and I crashed into somebody as I hit the deck.

I couldn't feel my arms or my legs, and I could hardly discern sounds from the vicious pounding in my head. It wasn't the best of my days, that was for damn sure.

My hand was still firmly grasping my sword, so I used it to help me stand. I was on my knees by the time somebody ungracefully scooped me off of my feet and hurried me into a room. How many sailors had died? How many survived? What were the injuries? Those questions were dominant in my mind, as they'd been sixty years ago with Edward Kenway, but there was no way for me to tell. I could hardly move as it was. It hurt too much.

"Get the doctor!" Ratonhnhaké:ton shouted.

Trying my best to ignore the pain, I grabbed the coat of whomever was about to leave and held them in a death-grip. "Don't!" I gasped. "No doctor! L-Leave him... for those who need him!"

"Sara, _you_ need him—!"

"I said don't—!" I vomited blood, unable to stop it, and released my grip as I fell into my dreams.

_**1257**_

The Mongolian attack came so suddenly that it was a miracle we'd been able to load the wagon in time. I was sprinting up to the castle as the Mongols appeared, my blade drawing blood everywhere I turned. After the Polo brothers had left with my father's Codex, Darim and Altair had gone back up to the keep. I had just finished packing Darim's wagon full of Altair's books and was hurrying to get him.

I ran into Darim, hardly noticing him as I reached the watchtower just below the stronghold. Darim grabbed onto my sleeve and yanked me in the direction he was sprinting, towards the wagon.

"Where is Altair?!" I shouted to Darim over the fighting.

Darim ducked from the swing of a Mongol's blade to evade him and kicked his knee in. "Run!"

"Where is Altair, Darim?!"

Darim's lips pursed as we reached the wagon. He offered me a hand to help me get onto it, but I cast my gaze towards the burning keep.

"He chose to stay behind," he said softly.

I wanted so badly to run back for Altair. I wanted to scream at him and tell him to come with us and escape, but... I knew such a thing was impossible. He was most likely locked in his vault, and the keys were in the possession of the Polo brothers.

So I fought back tears as I grabbed hold of Darim's hand. And as we galloped away from Masyaf, I hoped and prayed to whatever un-Godly things that were keeping me alive to keep my father alive. I needed to hold Altair one more time and tell him how much I loved him, and how he'd been the best father he could have been for us. How much I'd miss him, one day, when he would leave Darim and I to see Maria, Sef and Malik. I fought back my sobs, but not the feelings of unease, as if it was the last time I would be able to see Masyaf as a strong place guarded by my father.

I absolutely needed to say my good-byes to my father, so one day, I would return and hold him, and tell him how much I loved him, and he would respond.

I begged that he would respond.


	42. I Have Killed

Chapter Forty-One:

I Have Killed

_**1262**_

"_Gah_!" Darim fell from his horse, clutching the shaft of an arrow that protruded from his side.

I fired my final crossbow bolt at the last of the bandits and leapt off of my own horse. Darim groaned in pain, blood seeping from the wound.

"Hold on, brother!" I told him, carefully picking him up and slinging him over the saddle of his horse. "Hold on! We'll be back to Alexandria before you know it!"

He moaned something unintelligible, and since I was unable to decipher it I grabbed the reigns of his horse after climbing onto my own and guided it towards the city. Bandits had never attacked so close before, but with the recent lowering of the guard to fund some sort of expedition they may have become bolder.

It was ten minutes later that we entered the Rhakotis district of Alexandria, which the Assassins presided over. I brought Darim to the house of Sef's widow and his two girls, and then left to retrieve a doctor. The streets were crowded and muffled with sounds of vendors and the visitors that converged onto the streets. It was lucky that no one needed a doctor, because I managed to get him quickly.

We entered the home to see that Sef's wife and children had gone to the Hideout in the Rhakotis district on Darim's instruction. He didn't want his sister-in-law to see him wounded, but I was angry at him for having sent her away.

Still, the doctor got right to work. I paced incessantly outside of his room, rubbing my tired eyes for good measure. Darim was old now—older than before, and I hoped that the arrow in his side hadn't caused too much damage. His body wouldn't be able to handle it, at his age.

It took the doctor about an hour to remove himself from the room, wiping his hands of the blood of my brother. I looked at him expectantly, awaiting an answer.

But his face was grave and he shook his head slowly. "There's no stopping an infection with that wound. He has a week. Maybe less."

I crumpled into the closest chair and sat there, my face blank and my eyes staring at the ground. A _week_. A _week_ before...

I buried my face in my hands as the doctor left. My brother was dying, and there was nothing I could do.

_**1777**_

I shot up and grabbed Shay, who tried to leave again for the doctor. The blood on my hand was staining the white of her robes, but I refused to release her.

"Don't... you... dare...!" I snarled, gasping for breath.

"You are the single most stubborn woman I've ever had the misfortune of knowing!" Haytham growled, grabbing my wrist in an attempt to pry me from the Assassin. "Release her! You need a doctor, or you'll die!"

My hand clenched tighter around Shay's coat. "I won't! I... won't die! I'm incapable of it!"

Ratonhnhaké:ton aided his father and yanked my hand away. "Sara, you must not die here—!"

"I _WON'T_ DIE HERE! I _CAN'T_ FUCKING DIE!" I screamed at the three. Shay stopped dead in her tracks due to my outburst and turned to look at me, doctor forgotten for the moment. I felt tears spilling down my cheeks, some trailing the blood with it. "I can't. If I could, I... I would be dead now. Already. Long before... I would have killed myself. I want to be dead, but _I can't die_."

Haytham scoffed. "Nonsense, Kanaka!"

Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes shot to his father. "What did you call her?!"

"What, you didn't know?"

"Know _what_, _father_?!"

Haytham gestured to me. "This is Kanaka. She was your mother's best friend long before I'd met her. An honorary part of your tribe, if I'm correct."

Ratonhnhaké:ton's hands clenched. "No. You are mistaken. That's impossible, because Kanaka helped to raise me as a child. She left to work so we could receive the money to repair our village. She died. _This is Sara Taylor_."

"Is it now?" Haytham asked. "Then perhaps she would care to explain herself?"

"She needs a doctor! She does not need to explain herself, because I know who she is!"

"Don't you _dare_ get the damn doctor!" I growled.

Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes fixed on me, pleading with me. "You are in no condition to argue! You will die if we do not give you treatment immediately!"

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, I _won't_. Like I said, I _can't_." His brow furrowed in frustration, so I grabbed a throwing knife from my shoulder. He lunged for it, but I pressed it into the palm of his father. "You two, listen very carefully to me: Ratonhnhaké:ton, I want you to stand... over there!" I coughed, my lungs compressing uncomfortably. "Haytham, drive the blade into my throat."

"What?! No!" Ratonhnhaké:ton tried for the knife again, but Haytham himself lodged the knife into the wall.

"Are you mad?! I refuse! A preposterous idea!" Haytham exclaimed.

I stared angrily at the three, especially so at the two men in the room, and then grabbed another knife from the sheathe on my shoulder. Ratonhnhaké:ton made for it as well, but I kept it out of his reach. His father stopped him, too. Slowly and steadily, I rose into a sitting position on Ratonhnhaké:ton's desk, and then I glared at the men.

"This is nothing," I told them. "A mast? I've likely had worse. Gunshots? I've had too many." I twirled the blade in my hand. "This is nothing. So watch. I'd have killed myself for the man I loved if I could have. But I'm incapable of doing such, so let me show you."

I drove the blade into my heart, all three of those in the cabin lunging at me to stop me. Ratonhnhaké:ton ripped the blade from my chest as I fell backward onto the desk and tried to cover the wound to stop the blood. I closed my eyes, and imagined what death would be like.

I wondered if it would be anything like the death of my brother.

_**1262**_

"Hello, Suna." Darim smiled as best he could at me. His eyes had lost their mischievous glow a day ago.

I held up the package under my arm. "I'm here to change your bandages again."

"Ah. Thank-you, sister." I moved to sit beside him and open the package. He put a hand on mine and squeezed. "You know you don't have to."

"The hell I don't." I continued to open the package and pulled out the roll of bandages the doctor had just given me. It had already been five days since Darim got hit with that arrow. I still wasn't at peace with... the news.

Darim quietly tried to help me put the bandages on him, and by the time we were done I had to wipe my hands clean of his blood. The bandits had been an accident. It wasn't like it was my fault, but it felt like it. I was sitting there, trying my best to keep my little brother alive, but I knew it was futile. He'd die before the week was over. The paleness of his skin told me that much.

"Come, sister." Darim beckoned me with the hand that wasn't clutching his side. I went over to him and sat in the chair beside his bed, grasping his hand in mine. "Stop treating me as a patient. Get your ass in this bed."

I smirked at him. "You're wounded. I'll only aggravate it."

"No more than it already is, Suna." With a surprising amount of strength, Darim pulled me close until I agreed to hop in with him. When he was a little boy and had night terrors, if he thought he'd be bothering Maria, he'd come to my room and crawl into bed with me. I didn't mind, because if he thought I was scarier than the terrors he had he still knew I'd destroy them for him. "Better, isn't it?"

I shrugged uselessly. Darim smiled and slid his arm underneath my head. We stared at the roof for a time, saying nothing because nothing could possibly be said. The words just wouldn't come. Besides, what could I say to him? It was difficult to say farewell, as it was.

It had been different with Sef. He was already dead. I didn't get to say good-bye, but Darim was right there, dying beside me. I would say the words if I could. But I couldn't, because I couldn't let go.

I entwined my fingers with Darim's. An awkward hand-hold, but I wanted to do it. I could then convey what I wanted to say without doing so—without having to really say what needed to be said.

"Do you remember when we used to race to the keep?" Darim asked.

I nodded. "I do."

"You used to win all the time."

"I had more experience, longer training hours..."

"I suppose." Darim took a deep breath and exhaled loudly through his nostrils. "Remember when we got in trouble when those travellers from Jerusalem came?"

I grinned. "If I remember correctly, you and Sef were practicing your pick-pocketing skills."

"We were. And boy, were they _angry_..." Darim smiled fondly at the memory. "And when they refused our apology and compensation, you saw what was happening, marched right up to them and broke their noses before they'd fallen on their asses."

"And then they ran back to Jerusalem to pray to their God to mend their noses. Personally, they looked better with all the blood on their face."

"Ha! That they did! And then Altair and Maria caught wind of what you'd done, and you were on stable duties for a month!"

I grinned. "I never could get the smell of horse manure from my robes..."

Darim laughed, and then strained as he clutched his wounded side. My smile disappeared as I was brought back to the present. My brother was in pain, and he was dying.

"Suna, I feel I must ask a favour of you," Darim said quietly. "Will you promise to carry it through?"

My fingers tightened around Darim's. "Anything, brother."

Darim's hand slid up to the bracer that hid my hidden blade, and then he removed his own from his left arm. He handed it to me gingerly, and said, "Kill me."

I stared at my brother, wide-eyed and in shock. "W-What?!"

"We both know what comes. I would rather die by the blade than an infection."

I shot up from the bed. "I won't! I refuse!"

"You _promised_, Suna—."

"I _can't_!"

Darim took my hand and squeezed it tightly. "I am in pain. Either let me die slowly and miserably, or kill me and spare me that. You know that I cannot do it myself."

"You can't ask this of me!" I snapped at him, wiping away the tears I'd held in. "Goddammit, Darim! I can't!"

"You must," he whispered, his eyes pleading with me. "I'm begging you. I've laid here for too long."

"I—!"

He reached up and used his thumb to wipe away the tears that had collected on my eyes, smiling. "I understand the cruelty of my request, but you must understand that it will truly help me."

"You ask me to murder my brother."

"I ask you to save your brother the pain, because in his cowardice, he just wants it to end. You and I both know I'll not recover from this wound."

"But—!"

"I'm begging you on my deathbed, Suna."

I wrung my hands together. "The doctor—."

"Listen! Take your blade to my heart and flee to Damascus! Stay there for a time, then head to Jerusalem and take a boat. Did I ever tell you how nice England was this time of year?"

I glared at him. "You ask me to kill you and then live as a fugitive! What of Sef's wife and children?!"

"I told them what I wanted you to do before I sent them off. They accepted it. You should too. His daughters are big now and understand the concept of death and honour."

"They are still children."

"To us, yes," he said, "but not to the rest of the world. Please, Suna! Do this for me."

I hung my head, Darim's words flying through my thoughts. God, I didn't want to. I didn't want to take a blade against him, but... He was right. He was only in pain.

"Darim..." I grabbed him, lifted him up enough that he wouldn't be strained and held him as tightly as I could. I hugged him for far longer than we'd argued that day. His shoulder was damp by the time my face pulled away from it. Darim smiled at me and once more pressed his hidden blade into my hand.

"I love you, Suna. I always will," he whispered.

"A-And I love you, Darim...!"

I flicked my wrist. The blade released with nary a sound into the heart of my brother. I held him again, blood leaking onto my robes, until he was as cold as the walls that surrounded us, and I wept without so much as a sound.

I'd killed Darim.

I'd killed little brother.

_**1777**_

"The heart is a person's most vital organ," I told the three that stared down at me. "If it is hit, one will die. This is a truth. And like I said... I cannot die."

Ratonhnhaké:ton's hand, drenched in my blood, slowly lifted from the wound in my heart. Haytham had a sharp intake of breath as he examined the wound from where he was. Shay slowly came closer to get a better look.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, I raised you with your mother," I whispered. "I left England to get away from the man I loved, because I realized that we couldn't grow old together. I left so many places and people behind, like I left you behind. I hate growing close to others, because then it becomes harder to let them go."

"You...?" Ratonhnhaké:ton slowly began to rise. When he stood straight, I painfully swung my legs over the edge and watched the three.

I removed my hood, revealing the bullet-wound that was already healing. "That bear from before? Ripped my arm off. And it somehow got reattached. The burning of your village? I ran in to try and save Ziio, but there wasn't any way I could, and the burns healed the next day."

"So you're some sort of witch then?" Haytham asked.

"About as much a witch as your stockings," I said sarcastically. "No, I simply can't die. It was an accident that happened years ago. Since then, I just... I've gone through the ages by changing my name and hiding my identity, because it was the best way I could aid the Assassins."

"So you're the original then?" Shay interjected. "The original Shadow-Step?"

I nodded in response to her. "And I knew the original Hayya from Alexandria. A good woman, even if she did walk like a whore and spawn devil-children."

Shay facepalmed at the insults to her ancestors.

Ratonhnhaké:ton sat in one of the chairs near the desk. "Is this how you knew of my grandfather?"

"I served with him on his ship. You Kenways are devils, by the way. Keep your lips to yourself." Ratonhnhaké:ton shot a glare at his father, who smirked triumphantly. I rolled my eyes. "Look, go help the others. Get the supplies on board. We... We'll talk later."

Haytham strode from the cabin, Shay trailing behind him with obvious questions lurking in her eyes. Ratonhnhaké:ton hesitated, but stood nonetheless.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," I whispered to him.

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded slowly and then left the room as well. It would be the last time we would properly speak.


	43. Final Farewell

Chapter Forty-Two:

Final Farewell

_**1777**_

We dropped Shay off in the harbour in Philadelphia, and then left Haytham in New York. Ratonhnhaké:ton wanted to head to the Homestead before he returned the supplies to Washington, but that was fine with me. I hadn't spoken to him since then, but I'd spent the days in the hold writing a letter to him. I needed to tell him how proud I was of him, and how I would miss him, because I was leaving. I didn't know where; I just had to go. I needed to leave them all behind, just as selfishly as I had left Walter.

A day after we'd docked, I'd already said my farewells to everyone on the Homestead. I was glad to be able to meet Hunter, the son of Prudence and Warren who was named in Ratonhnhaké:ton's honour, before I left. I had slid the letter on Ratonhnhaké:ton's pillow after he'd left to deliver the supplies to Washington, and hoped that he would receive it well.

"Leaving already, are we?" Achilles asked as I descended the stairs. The old man was leaning forward on his walking stick, a coy smile attached to his lips.

I nodded slowly to him. "I've spent too much time here, as it is."

"And your help has been invaluable."

I chuckled. "Is that praise, old man?"

Achilles didn't answer, and instead decided to adjust his beaked hat. "We certainly will miss your cooking though. Thank God you had taught Connor a bit about it."

"I just hope he uses it, honestly."

Smiling, Achilles said, "Remember the difficulties that come with your role, Shadow-Step. Try not to reveal more than is necessary, and always fight for peace."

I clapped a hand onto Achilles' shoulder. "I will, Achilles. And take it easy on Ratonhnhaké:ton, okay? He's still young."

"That is precisely why I do not." Achilles grinned and held open the door for me. I adjusted the pack on my back and nodded in thanks to him. "By the way, Sara... James Hugh sends his regards."

I paused. "Give him my condolences, Achilles. And to his wife and sister."

"I will," Achilles promised, shutting the door to the manor behind me.

_**2012**_

I felt like a creep.

There I was, peering into the darkened window of Emma's room. I was cursing myself at the hesitation I was showing, but I felt it had to be done. I had a message to deliver from a friend, and even though that parchment had long since deteriorated, I still remembered it.

I had spent a few days alone to try and get over my grief, but when I realized it wouldn't ever leave me I stood up and demanded that Bill take me to Emma's house.

There were a lot of memories at the farmhouse there, I knew. Stephen, Emma's father, had been an Assassin for years by the time I'd met him; introduced to him by William Miles, incidentally. Stephen wanted to find a way to "cure" my "condition".

Frankly though, I'd set Emma's mother and father up. She owed me her life... technically. So did a few of her ancestors.

_Just open the damn window, give her the message and get out,_ I thought crossly to myself. _Desmond's almost finished with Ratonhnhaké:ton's memories and is closing in on the Key. Hurry it up!_

After a quick intake of breath I slowly opened Emma's window. She was sound asleep in her bed. So as not to make a sound, I carefully decided where to put my feet, which happened to be on some of the clothes she had lying around.

_So this is why the Templars haven't assassinated her yet,_ I thought as I glanced around the room. She's a teenager. Her room's a damn deathtrap.

Files laid open on her cluttered desk. Papers with notes in both her and her father's hand were strewn around the room, but I gravitated towards the desk and picked up a journal out of my morbid curiosity. I began to fiddle with the Shard around my neck as I read.

_**Date:**_ _December 10th, 2012_

_**Entry:**_

_I've been studying the Shard of Eden that my father kept hidden from my family for years. I want to know how it works, why it worked for Derek__—__why__ it showed my father an image of Altair Ibn-La'Ahad saving the oldest aunt I've ever known._

_ Could this be part of Altair's Apple? It would definitely explain the vision I see whenever I ask it to show me how it works. It seems to work on mental commands._

_ But what about my blood? I heal fast when wounded.. My blood leaves my body in the crimson color, but as soon as it touches the air around me it changes to amber and heals me. __Why is my ability so different from Suna's? Or is it the same, just slightly altered?_

_ Suna is Number Four, and I understand what my father did not. I know her 'condition', and I know who she really is. I understand why my mother looked at her with her Eagle Sense and saw that Number Four was so __bright__ in color. _

_ And now that I know what her 'condition' is, I'll stop at __nothing__ to help her. I __need__ to help her. I spent two years of my life trying to find her, to bring her back to the Assassins, and I'll do whatever it takes to help her._

_** Date:**__ December 12th, 2012_

_** Entry:**_

_It's been two days since my last entry and (needless to say) I haven't gotten many answers__—__only more questions. I've asked it __countless__ times to show me how to destroy it, but it only shows me the vision of Altair saving Suna. Why __that__ memory? Was it such a strong event in Altair's and Suna's lives that it's become like one of those Memory Seals that Altair had left behind, only to be found by Ezio Auditore later on?_

_ Would it be able to persevere against another P.O.E? From what my father has written already, it seems likely that it would take another P.O.E (perhaps a more powerful one) to destroy it._

_ I read my father's entry back in August of 2011, and I'm surprised that he didn't put the clues that Suna left behind together, but__—__like my Egyptian ancestor before me__—__ it was probably just a suspicion. _

_ - Sehkat knew something was different with 'Sofia d'Alviano', and during my Animus session, every time I tried to find out what secret she was hiding I'd be pushed back. It was like it was a memory that was corrupted or fragmented. I started to wonder if 'Sofia' had ever paid a visit to Sehkat later in Sehkat's, life and Sehkat asked her then...?_

_ -Emily Prince, my great-great grandmother, knew 'Sara Taylor'. I briefly relived Emily's memories. The reason being that Casey had clicked the wrong ancestor and I ended up watching Suna walk away, swaying her hips like how my dear old great-times-a-million grandmother taught her to back in Alexandria. But there was no mistaking the questioning gaze that Emily had whenever she looked at 'Sara' closely. _

_ - If only I could go back into an Animus and relive Sienna Brooks... Maybe she has something that I'm missing. Perhaps even my own mother, Cheryl Hale, knew something about Suna? Unlikely, but I can't help but hope._

_ - What of Amber Hayes and Shay Johnson? Did they know? Did they even interact with Suna at all in their lives?_

_ - I know my mother and aunt knew 'Samantha Warner' when they were younger. The fact that Heather chased me around the entire property when I told her that I'd loaned out my replacement jacket to 'Sam' made me think that Suna did something to my mother and aunt when they knew her. (On a side note, I'll have to find out what she did to Heather and properly thank her for it.)_

_ But back to the point at hand: my father doesn't have much about his meetings with Suna, but there's enough information for me to go through. I wonder... What if I had Suna's Shard and asked it questions? Would it give me the answers I want? Or would it simply just show me what I've already been seeing through my own? There are so many questions__—too many—__and that ever-looming deadline is approaching._

_**Date:**__ December 14__th__, 2012_

_**Entry:**_

_Another day, another unsuccessful attempt. God, what amount of patience did Altair have to study the __whole__ Apple?! I'm no closer to uncovering the truth than I was when I first touched this damn thing back in 2011, when my shoulder was healed._

_ This entry is going to be shorter than the others. The reason? Heather dragged me outside to train a little bit, and by 'train' I mean 'gang-up on Emma'. So it ended up being a five-on-one sparring match (Ryan wisely stayed out of the fight), and I won__—__although I am still unsure as to how. Casey and Derek said it was because I 'vanished' and reappeared when I had pounced and 'killed' them. _

_**Date:**__ December 15th, 2012_

_**Entry**_**:**

_I figured out what Derek and Casey meant by 'vanishing'. Turns out there's a reason why Suna was dubbed 'Shadow-Step' back during the Third Crusade: she literally vanished from sight when fighting. How in the world did I get this ability? Could it have come from Sehkat? I mean, she __was__ silent. Perhaps her kid? Wouldn't surprise me if Suna taught my ancestor how to 'vanish'. Or is there and actual term for such a skill?_

_ Not a lot of notable research was done today. Sarah and the family kept me busy with plans and other things that my father had to deal with (I ended up shoving everything at Sarah and saying, "Have at 'er."), and I realized then that I'm not suited for paperwork._

_**Date:**__ December 16th, 2012_

_**Entry:**_

_The Shard has shown me the same vision over and over again. It's frustrating me to no end. With each viewing of this ancient memory, I'm starting to piece together perhaps the one thing that makes my healing different from Suna's._

_ Derek told it to '__heal__' me. Altair told it to '__keep Suna alive__'. I felt guilty when I laughed at the revelation. Derek had asked it to merely heal my wounds so that I'd be able to walk again, while Altair... Altair had asked it to do something far greater than 'heal' Suna._

_ But as I realized the distinct differences, the same fear leaked into my mind: what if I'm like Suna now? If I am, is there a way to reverse it? My father had a theory: destroy the exact Piece of Eden or Shard and the effects of the Apple/P.O.E should wear off on its own. But __how__ would I destroy a P.O.E? That answer is still foreign knowledge to me._

_ I realized instantly why the Shard that Derek used on me worked for him: he shares my blood. Our father__ (__maybe__) __had no link to the First Civilization, but our mother did. Her Eagle Sense was the factor. I still don't understand why the ability was only passed down to through females in my family (obviously Darim Ibn-La'Ahad had it, and he was Altair's son, therefore, a man). None of this is making sense to me, unless Suna smacked him in the head one-too-many times and that's how he got that specific Eagle Sense__. It __wouldn't surprise me one bit if that was the answer._

_ Like I said before, I'm getting more questions than answers, and I'm beyond frustrated. I need more time to figure this out. It'd be easier if I had the entire Apple with me, or perhaps Suna's Shard. I could put hers and mine together and see what happens._

_**Date:**__ December 18th, 2012_

_**Entry:**_

_From what I've seen, heard, read, and experienced, it seems that the Pieces of Eden come with a very steep price, as does having blood that is linked through hundreds__—__if not __thousands__—__of years to Those Who Came Before. _

_ All I understand is that, before they were discovered and before they were put into the hands of the Assassins and Templars alike, everything was fine. Not in the 'world peace' context of the word, of course, but there wasn't a reason to fight. If the Assassins and Templars never knew about their existence, perhaps this war we're fighting wouldn't even be happening. _

_ My family and I learned that our Mentor was kidnapped, as was Suna and her friend. The entire Order seemed to have stopped and gone silent, waiting to hear of what had happened. After what seemed like forever, we (my family) learned Suna's friend was killed by the Templars in Rome. The Mentor and she were extracted from Abstergo by Desmond Miles, the Mentor's son, but..._

_ The Pieces of Eden come with a heavy price. Not everyone can be gifted (or cursed, depending on the person's view) with First Civilization power. The young man that was killed was innocent. He had __everything__ to look forward to in his young life. He had a girlfriend that loved him __unconditionally even though she doesn't seem like the type to come out and say it__. He had everything in his life to look forward to._

_ I don't know what price I'll have to pay with my ability to heal. Perhaps I will be like the Shadow-Step and be immortal, forever set on this earth to help the Order grow and expand. Perhaps I won't be, and I'll move forward with my life, or I'll die when we reach December 21st, 2012._

_ All I know is if Suna had never met my ancestors, I may not be here. Without Suna, I may not be the Assassin I am today. And for that I am truly grateful._

I shut the journal quietly and placed it back onto the desk, shaking my head. _Dumb kid,_ I thought. _Dumb, stubborn kid._ I still couldn't help but crack a smile though.

"Do you remember, Emma?" I asked her quietly, spinning the chair from her desk so it was beside her bed. "Remember when we raced together a year ago?" I slowly sat down and brushed my hood off of my head. "I remember. You kicked my ass. Just barely won, too. You gave me a goal to reach, even though I know I can never reach it. I guess you returned the favour there." I reached into my pocket and fished out my credit card, and then began toying with it. "I'd given you a goal when you were a kid, just like Altair had given me one. I'd forgotten what it felt like to try so desperately to surpass someone, so thanks for that. I also remember when you gave Tyler, Ryan and I three-hundred dollars to help us with groceries. Sneaky job, that. So I've come to repay you." I set the credit card on her end table, and then found the paper that I'd written my PIN on. "1184. Try not to lose it, okay?" I set the paper on top of the credit card.

"Well, repaying you isn't the only reason I'm here, as you can imagine. I came to deliver a message from the woman who taught me how to walk like a whore—_courtesan_," I corrected myself. "Grandma Sehkat sent _you_ a message across time, so try to remember it, Em. She said something about how your free will is important. Don't squander it; fight for it. But know when to sacrifice it for the greater good. I'd give you a letter, but it's a bit... aged. Besides, I don't think you can properly read Arabic anyway." I smirked, and then hung my head. "Damn it all. I'd wake you up and tell you this, but... Shit, I just... I've failed. And... after the twenty-first, I'm not sure if we'll see each other again, so... I guess I'm trying to say good luck, and don't die. You've got your life ahead of you, Emma. You can see a hundred amazing things in a day if you really look. You can save lives and become someone that future generations will look up to. I'm sorry that I'm too much of a coward to say it to your face, but... It had to be said."

I shrugged off Emma's jacket and hung it onto the chair. "And..." I wiped some hair out of her face. "Darim was my little brother. So, I'm your aunt. I love you like an aunt should. Like your own aunt, Heather, does." I pecked Emma's forehead and then stepped onto the windowsill. How many times had I done the same gesture to Sef's children? I'd never had the chance with Darim's, mainly because I hadn't been sure if he'd had children.

It made me miss Rami and Ratonhnhaké:ton, as sons.

It made me miss my entire family.

Especially Walter.

I couldn't stop the tears that came, but I was glad I was in control of myself enough to say one last thing to my niece:

"Safety and peace, Emma Hale."


	44. 2012

Chapter Forty-Three:

2012

_**2012**_

"Got it," Desmond announced, presenting the Key to me. "Connor Davenport's grave."

"Really?" I took it in my hands and examined the circular object. "Hm. I guess Ratonhnhaké:ton wanted to make it easy on an Assassin that would come looking for it."

"Yeah." Desmond took it back and looked at the large door that barred our way to whatever could save the world. "Battle's started, too."

One of my eyebrows rose. "Battle? What battle?"

"Assassins and Templars, of course," Desmond answered. "The Templars are after the Grand Temple, so the Assassins are holding them off. It's a bloodbath up there... We hardly managed to sneak by."

"Emma's participating," Bill added. "She's after that Templar you spotted before. Brother Richards. You remember him? In Central Park?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Bald guy, snobby face... He's still alive?"

"He was within the church and protected by Abstergo. He supplied a lot of... unwilling Animus subjects."

I looked at Desmond. "I'm glad you aren't one of those Sunday school kids."

"Damn right," he replied.

I heard the echoes of bullet fire and grenades, not to mention vehicles. _Man, if the weapons were different, or the mounts..._

"Oh, stop thinking about 'the good old days'!" Shaun snapped, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "You're making me jealous!"

I grinned at him. Rebecca adjusted her headphones and began leading the way towards the door. It'd be over soon. We would all be relieved when it was.

But would the war truly end?

A one of Rebecca's monitors started beeping. She glanced at it, and then to me. "Sam, someone's breaching the perimeter. _Fast_."

I nodded curtly. "Got it," I said, and then sprinted to the entrance.

By the time I reached the door, I could make out the silhouette of a man sprinting towards me, gun raised and pointed at me. I tensed, ready to fight him but aware of my oath not to kill, but someone beat me to it.

The man's eyes widened as he heard the branches above him creak. He fired and missed the figure in pursuit. "Shit! The Shadow-Step—!"

Leaping from the cover of the trees, Emma sank her hidden blade into the neck of the Templar, stopping him dead in his tracks (no pun intended, I assure you). Her right arm was coated in blood, and she had a few scratches on her face from branches that she'd obviously tried to keep out of her way. There was also a scratch on her left thigh, but it had healed already thanks to the influence of the Shard in her possession.

I smiled to her. Emma smirked, and then nodded curtly to me. I was glad that she'd become fast enough to catch those pesky Templars.

"He seemed confused there," I commented, gesturing to the dead Templar. "Did he just call you my nickname?"

"If I remember correctly, you thought it was a ridiculous nickname." _Ah, and there's the smarty-pants look that Darim used to give me..._ "That coat you left behind..." Emma grinned and walked forward. "It's dirty. You'd better come back to my place after this and wipe all those damn stains out of the white!"

"Isn't that what a washing machine's for?" I asked, and met her halfway. "Besides, it was dirty when I got it."

"Yeah, I don't think so." I offered my hand to Emma, who grasped my forearm tightly. I mimicked the gesture.

"Be careful on that battlefield," I told my niece. "I've seen enough of them to know what goes on. Stray bullets are more difficult to spot than stray arrows."

Emma shrugged. "No pressure. I'm just in charge of a massive part of the Order that's covering your butts down in the temple."

"Really? I'm surprised Bill didn't send someone older in to lead."

"Well, in terms of seniority, that would be _you_, Suna." Emma grinned snidely. "Besides, your battlefield is in the temple. So do what you've been waiting to do for the last millennia, all right? Fuck Those Who Came Before up!"

"With pleasure." Emma and I released each other, understanding passing between us. Someone who hadn't fought their entire life toward a single goal wouldn't know what we felt at the moment, but it was strong and it was there.

"Suna!" Emma called.

I turned towards her. "Yeah?"

"After this—after the fight and the Grand Temple, you still owe me a sparring match. And then let's talk."

I grinned after her. "Does 'Emmy' think she can beat me without me giving her another wedgie?"

"You're on, old lady!" she exclaimed, and then ran back towards the battlefield.

_Keep safe, kiddo._

I spun on my heel to enter the Grand Temple, and was surprised to see Bill, Rebecca and Shaun climbing out. I stared at them in shock for a bit before I realized that Desmond wasn't with them.

"Where's—?!"

I could hardly get the words out of my mouth before Rebecca answered. "He's inside. He told us to go—."

I ran into the temple. "You guys! Get away from the temple just in case! I need to make sure he's all right!"

"Be careful, Sam!" Rebecca called after me.

I nodded to her and sprinted down the darkened hallway of the temple, towards Desmond and whatever device would help us save the world.

And just as I reached the long, wide bridge that would lead me to Desmond, the eerie lights in the temple began flickering.

_Fuck! Go, Suna! Go!_

Pumping my legs, I sprinted down the bridge, my arms helping me gain momentum as I shot across the chasm. I was focused straight ahead, and nowhere else.

Desmond soon came into sight, his body rigid as blue volts travelled across his body. I gave it one last go, screaming his name, and then I reached for him.

I remembered when I had tried to reach he, Rebecca, Shaun and Lucy back in Rome. I couldn't reach him then, but here I could.

I grabbed Desmond's shoulder. "DESMOND!" I hollered at him, trying to fight against the electricity shooting through my body that had travelled from him.

Desmond and I were blown backwards, away from the blue sphere he'd had his hand on. My body tingled with electricity, and I found myself unable to muster the strength to stand. I cursed, and then felt my eyes closing...

I gasped, a lungful of air entering my lungs as I tried to refocus my eyes. How long had they been closed? Or had they even been? I couldn't think properly. My mind was a jumble of thoughts, some completely irrelevant to anything.

"Desmond?" I slowly stood, my limbs shaking and twitching with the effort. Electricity was still zipping through my body. "Des?" I stumbled once, and then crawled forward to him on my elbows. He wasn't moving. I placed a hand on his chest and shook him. "Desmond, wake up. It's... It's over."

Desmond didn't move. He didn't twitch from the sparks of electricity that jolted off of his body, he didn't gasp for air... He just laid there, unmoving, and without a breath to leave his body.

I laid my cheek down on the cool ground and shut my eyes. Did we really win? Was the world truly saved? Desmond... His life was sacrificed. A life that I had waited to see for a millennia... It had ended so quickly.

I looked up again and examined him. Of all his ancestors, he really did resemble Altair the most. There were traces of Ezio there, though Connor was within his will. They would be proud of their descendant.

"I'm sorry I failed to protect you, Desmond," I whispered when my eyes were set on his charred right hand.

_**"It is done."**_ Juno's voice came from behind me, and I could hear her approaching. _**"The world is saved. You played your part well, Desmond."**_ I froze, and turned my head to look at her. She disregarded me, and seemed to only fixate her gaze on my deceased great-nephew. _**"But now..."**_ Juno paused, and I saw a smirk struggle at her lips. _**"Now it's time that I played mine."**_

Juno stepped over us as if we were simple rocks in the Grand Temple. My sword wasn't far from where we laid, despite how I'd never equipped it in the first place. Had one of the others brought it? And why? It hardly mattered. I took hold of the grip and slammed the tip against the ground, using my blade as a cane of sorts to help me stand. I wobbled, but I managed to continue standing with only my own strength.

"Hey..." My voice was weak. I stepped forward, focusing on pushing one foot ahead at a time. "Hey!"

My call to the One Who Came Before went unheeded. She moved towards the entrance of the Grand Temple across the bridge, and then disappeared. I struggled to follow. My legs felt like jelly and my knees felt like those slinky toys. But I still followed, hoping to catch a glimpse of her—to make her speak with me and bring Desmond back.

I stumbled as I climbed the slope to the entrance. It was by some distant miracle that I was able to get to the top at all, anyhow.

As soon as I emerged from the Grand Temple, I realized that Bill, Rebecca and Shaun must've gone behind the Assassin lines to seek shelter from... whatever. I looked up at the sky and widened my eyes as they laid upon the largest aurora borealis I'd ever seen. I was pretty sure it was encasing the globe, and that it was Desmond's doing.

_**"This is what I did for your people."**_ My eyes snapped to Juno, who was standing maybe an arm's length away from me. I hadn't seen her, or heard her at all. _**"For the humans who killed my father and husband, this is what I have done."**_

My eyes narrowed at the One Who Came Before. "Bullshit! You...! Desmond did this! He gave up his life... to save _everyone_!"

A superior smirk ghosted across Juno's features. She glowed with a radiance similar to the sun, but infinitely gentler, although not comforting in the least. I wasn't sure if she was a hologram of some sort like before, or if she truly stood before me—or, rather, _I_ stood before _her_.

_**"You can hardly stand, let alone speak,"**_ Juno remarked. _**"You should be dead, as he is, but you remain thanks in no small part to our technology—our hard work."**_ She glided around me, and then leaned in close to my ear. _**"So, what can you do with that sword, child, if you are so weak?"**_

I raised my sword at Juno as she came around to face me once more. "Our greatest weakness lies in giving up," I told her. "The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time."

_**"Wise words. What else have you to say?"**_

"_This isn't over until I'm fucking dead_!" I slashed my blade at her, but it passed through her. It didn't leave a mark, and she didn't even flinch.

_**"You're a fool to think that you can kill one such as I with that petty stick you call a blade,"**_ Juno chided. _**"A poor, delusional fool."**_

"And you're a bitch!" I attacked again, desperate to bring the One Who Came Before down. I guess I thought I could bring Desmond back, but maybe... Maybe I was just angry. I'd lived nearly a _millennia_ to see Desmond _die_ within _ten_ seconds? _Ten_ fucking _seconds_?! There _had_ to be something else! Something I could do to save him!

Somehow, Juno caught the blade in-between her fingers. She examined it, an almost bored look on her face, and then tossed it away from herself. _**"You wish for a duel, human? Very well. I will oblige that violent urge of yours."**_ Like Juno only a few minutes later, I didn't see the next thing that appeared. A sword in her hand. But not just any sword—a Sword of Eden. _**"You can be wounded with these,"**_ she said, examining her blade. _**"But I'll grant you one better."**_

Juno disappeared from my sight. I whirled around, pointing my silver blade before me, but couldn't see her. And then she appeared behind some trees. Forcing my jelly-like legs ahead, I pursued her with every bit of strength I could muster. I met with the Sword clipping my left arm, just above my bracer. I cried out in pain and made to grab the wounded area when the Sword appeared again and sliced my back. I stumbled, but stood up and continued my hunt for her. The Sword shot out from nowhere and sliced my right cheekbone, running fresh blood down my cheek that dribbled down my face. My training from hundreds of years ago sprang forth to fuel me, so I wouldn't stop even if a team of horses ran into me. The mindset of an Assassin consumed me whole as I followed Juno deeper and deeper into the woods, readying myself to take her life. The Shard around my neck throbbed and burned the place it rested on, and my wounds stung beyond any pain I had felt before, but I didn't care. I needed to find—!

I couldn't remember what had happened. One moment, I had been pursuing the One Who Came Before, and the next I was on my knees, the Sword of Eden sticking through my back and out my chest. God, did it hurt. It felt as if a white-hot iron had been thrust through me.

I dropped my sword and wrapped my hands around the blade that jutted through me, my hands sticky with my own blood. The Sword of Eden evaporated into nothingness at the same time the Shard's heat became too much for me to bear. Juno raised her hand, the Shard rising with it, and then the cord around my neck snapped. She took the Shard in her hands once I'd fallen forward, but managed to catch myself with my arms before I hit the forest floor.

_**"You are a poor, pathetic creature,"**_ Juno said, twirling the Shard around her slender white fingers. _**"Pitiable, truly. But not without your... admirable qualities. I suppose that is the part that resembles us the most—the part we had truly crafted within you when we made you in our image."**_ Juno caught the Shard between her fingers and examined it. _**"The Sword will not kill you, though I think you are aware of that. Tell me, what has driven you all these years?"**_

I glared up at her. Blood pooled in my mouth as I opened it to answer. "A p-promise...!" I gasped.

_**"To Altair?"**_ When I nodded, the One Who Came Before smirked. _**"As I have said, an admirable quality. But you have failed, child. You were instructed to find Desmond and Eve. And where is Eve?"**_

"I don't... fucking... care!" I spat at her.

Juno remained unfazed and composed. _**"She is not here, that much is evident. But I suppose finding and training Desmond was... adequate."**_ Juno offered a hand. I stared at it, and then hesitantly took it, and then Juno shoved the Shard of Eden into my heart. My mouth opened in a wordless scream as the wound closed up after it. I could feel it inside of me, and it throbbed endlessly within my heart. Juno released my hand and began to fade from my sight. _**"You have twenty minutes, Suna Ibn-La'Ahad."**_


	45. Twenty Minutes

Chapter Forty-Four:

Twenty Minutes

_**2012**_

_Twenty minutes..._ I groaned in pain as I painfully crawled along the forest floor, my hands digging into the dirt to drag myself along. What _was_ twenty minutes to me? I'd spent longer sitting around for a target to appear. Hours, even. On occasion, days.

What was twenty minutes, truly? Twelve-hundred seconds, if one was to think literally. A short time for one who occupied themselves with some menial thing such as a computer or a book. A long time for one who sat on a bench to await a bus on a rainy day.

_So what is it to me?_ I wondered as I propped myself against a fat trunk of a nearby tree. Twenty minutes, to me, was the time it would take to meticulously sharpen one of my blades. Twenty minutes was the amount of time I spent eating and enjoying another's company in the mornings, or at noon or even in the evening. Twenty minutes was the amount of time I had taken to do push-ups as soon as I would awaken, or the time it would take me to run down to Masyaf to be fitted for new robes or boots.

Twenty minutes had become my entire life.

My hand gently stroked the open wound in my chest. It wouldn't kill me, but the Shard in my heart would. The Shard that Juno put there. Was she lying? Did she really intend to trick me by having me think my life was over? That, at long last, it had come to its conclusion? A halt to everything I had done... Was anything even worth it? Everything I had done up to that point would come to a complete and utter stop, and mean nothing... Or would it? Was there something I had done in my life that really and truly meant something to someone? Or had I been selfish all along and helped no one in my eight-hundred-twenty-eight years of life?

And what even awaited me in death? Was there truly such a thing as Heaven or Hell? Was anyone waiting for me? Chara, Altair, Ahdara, Ghazi, both Marias, Darim, Sef, Rami, Ezio, Flavia, Achilles, Sofia, Giovanni, Mario, Jeanne, Jean, Edward, James, Lily, Catherine, Rosa, Rami, Ratonhnhaké:ton, Meredith, Jeanine, Sehkat, Cheryl, Stephan, Desmond, Walter... Were any of them waiting? Or had their deaths obliterated all they were to nothingness?

What was the next place we went to, if any? Would anyone, people I knew or not, be there? Would it just be me, or would I become as they are: nothing?

I felt heaviness find its way to my chest. My hands struggled to remove the belts around my forearms that attached my hidden blades to me, but one they were off they laid by my side. I slowly and meticulously removed the shortblade sheathe from my back and set the small, silver blade across my lap.

I was the Shadow-Step, in life. Suna of the Shadow-Step, they called me. I was the person Templars feared and Assassins admired. I was the woman who became immortal in both body and name. I was Rami's adopted mother, Chara's sister, Ahdara's cousin, Darim and Sef's older sister, and the adopted daughter of Altair and Maria Ibn-La'Ahad. I'd trained Assassins across the ages. I'd killed Templars, and ended family lines forever. I had loved and I had lost. And now, I was dying.

Death... I could remember the times I desired it above all other things. To die a warrior's death, to die a prisoner's death, to fall asleep beside the person I'd loved and never awaken... To simply die, I thought, was the end I desired.

How had it been for Ezio? How had it been for my father? Ezio, who passed away watching his loved ones, and Altair, who sat down to rest for a last time once he was certain everyone was safe, and the Apple was guarded.

And what of Walter? I had held him in my arms years ago, cradling him close to me as I watched the light leave his eyes, hoping that he wouldn't feel alone or betrayed... or even abandoned. And Jeremy? I didn't know what to think of him. He had simply vanished, his body inhabited by a familiar stranger.

I thought of all who died alone and all I'd held. I thought of those I'd watched die, and those I'd heard perish. What did my enemies experience? What did my allies see? Was I to die alone as they had? It suddenly felt as though a sting in my heart that was not caused by the Shard exploded—a pang of sadness and loneliness. I wanted to hold someone. I wanted to feel like it would be all right, if only for a moment. It was at this time that I thought the most of my mother.

"Suna?"

_Emma_. The voice belonged to Emma.

"Here..." I called quietly. Emma's head poked around the tree I was seated against and took in my wounds. She smiled, oblivious to the Shard in my heart, and I wanted to keep it that way until the very end. "You're... a sight for... sore eyes."

"I just came to check up on you..." Emma examined my wounds further. "You okay?"

"H-Healthy... as a horse!" I assured her, smiling. "I... I just need... to sit for a while... How fared the battle?"

Emma slid down the tree trunk to sit beside me. Her wounds had healed, but there was a bandage wrapped around her arm. Had someone used a Piece of Eden against her? "I killed that Templar that we saw in the park that day," she told me. "Nasty bastard, but I'm glad it's over."

We sat there in almost complete silence for a while, the only sound being my own strained breathing. The Shard felt as if it was slowly burning me from the inside out; a fire just waiting to spread.

"Is... everyone... all right?" I asked her.

She nodded, and then crossed her arms over her chest. "Most of them. Templars retreated after the aurora borealis showed up. Where's Desmond...?" The look on my face explained it all for her. "Oh," she breathed. "So it's _his_ doing..."

I leaned my head against the trunk of the tree and stared upwards at the sky, which was guarded by the swirling and ever-changing lights created by Those Who Came Before, and initiated by Desmond. But still, beyond their colours, I could spot my two favourite things.

"This is... a good tree," I remarked.

"Is it?"

Painfully, I pointed up at the sky. "Any tree... that lets one see... the stars, is a... good tree."

Emma followed my gaze to the sky. "Suha and Altair."

"You... know them?"

"It was something I studied when bored. It's what the basis of your name was, right?" Emma asked.

I nodded slowly. "It... was." I very slowly closed my eyes. "Emma... what do you believe... death is?"

Emma paused for a moment. "I... don't know what to believe."

"A statement... that possesses more wisdom... than it implies." I smiled at her. "I... find it to be a... release. To be... saved from the troubles... and the pains of our world." My hand slowly closed around the hidden blade I'd always used on my right arm: Darim's hidden blade. "To die... and to part is a... lesser evil. But to... to part and to live... There is... the torment. How fortunate I am... to have something... that makes saying good-bye... so hard..."

"You're not dead yet, old lady." Emma grinned at me. Was it meant to encourage? To inspire? To comfort? I was unsure, but she continued it. "You're still kicking. You and I are gonna hit the Templars where it hurts. Besides, we've still got a sparring match to complete, right?"

"Of course... we do." I placed the hidden blade on Emma's lap. "This... was Darim's. It's yours now."

Emma glanced at me, and then the ancient blade—the blade of her ancestor. "You're giving gifts left right and centre, Suna. I still need to return that credit card to you. I left it at home though."

I smiled and shut my eyes. "Thank-you, Emma."

"For what?"

"For everything. Ana fakhouron... gedan... beka."

Emma smirked at me. "Did you just speak in Arabic?"

"My... My bad. I meant to say... I'm... proud of you."

"Don't get all sappy on me now!" Emma nonetheless wrapped her arm around my shoulders. "I just wanted to be the best."

"Same... here."

I wondered then, what was it that truly brought people together? What rallied them beneath a cause, or had them group up in sorrow? Was it a person? Was it a soul? Or was it something beyond our reach that we couldn't possibly comprehend? Of everything I knew and that I'd witnessed, those answers escaped me the most because of my inexperience within it. I had no understanding, but I still desired the knowledge.

"Emma, I'd forgotten... There's a... a gift for you... in the jacket. Use it... wisely."

Grinning, she replied, "Stop giving me things. I'm feeling spoilt."

"Good." I slowly leaned my head onto her shoulder, fixating my eyes on the faraway stars. "I just... I want to... rest... for a time."

"If you need to, and then we can head to the Assassin camp and assess the damage." Emma paused. "Suna?"

"Mhm?"

"Your eyes... they're blue."

I couldn't stop the smile that found its way to my lips. Emma's eyes widened at the same time the Shard exploded within my heart, grating itself into nothingness. She screamed at me and called my name, but I grabbed onto her and held her to stop her from moving as blood gushed from my mouth and my heart onto my shirt.

"I... I l-love you, Emma..." I whispered. "P-Please... just... let me... sleep... now."

I couldn't help but feel guilty at the comfort I received as I passed. I had put a burden on Emma, but I was sure she could handle it. She certainly could, if anyone. But someone else would have to guide her. Someone else would have to be there for her.

It couldn't be me, because I'd already breathed my last.

I, Suna Ibn-La'Ahad, was dead.


	46. Epilogue I

Epilogue I

_**?**_

Sound came first. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks, splashing sea-spray against the structure it moulded with its constant battering. The sound of the wind as it sifted through the air, carrying with it the sounds of laughter, of chatting—of life.

Smell was next. The scent of bread wafted through the air, the aroma of the sea, and the dreaded smell of sweat earned through a hard day's work. The smell of freshly-dug earth for planting and compost were dominant in the air.

Touch arrived soon after. The feeling of the grass beneath me as I laid upon it, breathing slowly, and the dirt upon my fingers as I caressed the ground. The feel of the bugs as they slowly crawled upon my torso, and the disgust of them.

I could also feel my surprise as taste arrived. The salt of the sea had somehow come upwards and landed on my lips. I could remember its taste. The wind had obviously carried it. It should have made me thirsty, but...

Sight was the last to come. I slowly peeled my eyes open, my eyes adjusting to the vibrant sun above me. I raised a hand to shield my sensitive vision and gazed, surprised, at the fingerless glove with silver studs on the knuckles that I was wearing.

I examined my other hand and saw the same thing. When I looked at my wardrobe, I couldn't shake the feeling that the things I was wearing was familiar to me. White, mostly, and it was very long. I took my time getting onto my legs, and when I steadied myself I gazed at my surroundings. Green grass laid beneath my boots, its soil a dark brown and rich with minerals. I spotted a road behind me and began travelling by following my feet. I had no knowledge of where I was going; only where I needed to be.

Walking was difficult at first, but something in the back of my mind knew exactly where I was going. Where? I wasn't sure. My mind was clouded, and it was difficult to think properly. My name, who I was... For the moment, I couldn't grasp it. I slowly shuffled forward, and then my strides became longer, my back taller. Confidence and purpose, even if I didn't know where they came from, pushed me forward. I trusted my feet and followed them.

I stumbled once or twice, but I managed to regain my footing and continue on. A weapon gently tapped against my back with every step, but it didn't bother me. In fact, I took comfort in knowing it was there. I could feel a weapon at my left hip too. A silver blade of some sort. A beautiful one.

I passed through some tall wooden gates and continued on. The dirt underneath my brown leather boots seemed to push me forward as I passed into the small village. I stopped by the well at its entrance and looked around, taking it in. The sounds and smells were strong here, but my heart warmed at the sights of the people, all bustling and laughing. Children ran around playing and enjoying themselves. Merchants shouted their wares, begging for attention from the populace. It was familiar to me, and a comfort of sorts.

I stepped forward again and began to climb a large slope. I didn't stumble any longer. The houses were lined at the cliffs of the hill, and were made of an old stone. I continued my climb until I reached a small vigil, just a few dozen metres away from a large keep. Flags adorned the keep's towers, and they waved strongly in the wind. Men were lined at its walls to guard it, but none really seemed like they were waiting for anything. They were at peace.

I felt a weight on my back and my heart lurched. Giggling erupted from behind me as two arms gently wrapped around my neck, the small body clinging to me affectionately.

"You're here!" the boy on my back exclaimed. "We've been waiting!"

Three others approached us. Two women, and one other little boy. The boy had dark brown hair and alluring blue eyes, and a very mischievous smile. The two women could probably have been sisters with their dark brown-almost-black hair, and captivating grey eyes. The little boy on my back released me and fell to the ground, and joined the three in front of me. He looked almost exactly like the other boy, but his eyes were a light brown.

"It took you long enough to find your way here," the younger of the two women chastised, though they both looked to be around the same age.

I tilted my head at them, uncertain of what they'd meant. The older of the two women smiled and gently placed a hand on my right shoulder, which I realized had a few small knives.

"It's all right; even the best get disoriented." She smiled at me reassuringly, and I felt a small pull at my heart. I wondered where I'd seen them, _if_ I'd seen them. "Come now; everyone's waiting for you."

_Everyone? For me? _She began to pull me by the shoulder towards the keep, and then she and I linked elbows. The other woman laughed and occupied my other elbow while the two young boys sped around us, playing a game of tag up the hill. We passed many men in white hoods, and as they saw us they clenched a fist over their hearts and bowed low, and then went on with their day. Such a thing, somehow, didn't unnerve me. It was another familiar thing.

As we passed under the portcullis of the keep, I stopped. Hesitation had somehow sprang into my mind. To my left was a small circle where two men in white robes attacked each other with old-looking blades, and to my right was one more hill to climb. The women led me to the right, and we crossed the threshold of stone into the keep. We climbed one staircase before I had to stop to gaze out of the doorway. A garden. Familiarity assaulted my mind, but I couldn't place it.

One more flight of stairs, and my hands gripped the women's tightly. The boys ran ahead to meet two figures at the desk on the far side of the second story. The man had his hands clasped behind his back until he heard the laughter of the boys and then turned to embrace the one that ran to him; the younger one. The older boy ran to a woman dressed in modest clothing, with brown hair and blue eyes. She clung to him tightly and kissed him on the cheek, to which he argued. The younger boy ran to the new woman and gave her a large hug, while the older boy walked over to the man, and the man placed an affectionate hand on the boy's head, ruffling his hair.

"They've been waiting for a long time," the older woman to my right explained. "We all have."

The man had deep brown eyes, close-cut brown hair, and an unruly stubble on his face. He looked as if he could have been the boys' father... Perhaps he was. The woman by all the boys was, indeed, their mother. They looked to be a perfect family.

The man looked up at me, and a wide grin erupted on his face. He stretched a hand out, palm up, and held my gaze. The familiarity clicked then. The women at my sides, the boys, the man and woman...

"Welcome home," the man said. "We've missed you."

The women released me and pushed me forward. I stumbled, but held the man's gaze. My feet dragged against the stone as I came ever closer to him, and when my outstretched hand touched his, I felt the tears begin to fall.

"Al... tair...?" I murmured.

In one swift motion, Altair pulled me towards him and wrapped me in his arms. I was shaking, but whether it was because of the sobs or the unrelenting terror that he wasn't real, I didn't know. And then I felt Altair release me, and Maria took his place, stroking the back of my head gently.

"Welcome home, Suna," she whispered. "Don't cry; it's all right now."

I didn't want to let any of them go. I probably wouldn't have, had Darim and Sef not pull on my robes, taking me away from Maria, and wrapping me in their own bear-hugs. My brothers. My mother. My father.

Chara and Ahdara were next, their identical grey eyes closed as they held me. My sister and my cousin. Two people who were really blood-related to me, and yet they held a bond with me just as strong as Altair, Maria, Darim and Sef did.

"It's about time you got here!" Malik grinned nonetheless, his eyes twinkling before he used his arms to wrap me in a hug. _Arms_. When had he snuck up on me? Then again, he'd always been better than me in that sense.

My knees were weak, but they didn't give up on me. I eventually had to let them all go, and I just watched their faces for a time. I was... elated. Relieved. I wanted so badly for this to be real, even if I wasn't sure if it was or not.

"There's someone else who needs to see you," Altair eventually said. "Follow me."

Altair took me by the hand and led me down the stairs to the garden. We walked all the way to where the columns were before I realized who stood there. My family was behind me, but my life was in front of me.

He smiled devilishly at me, his chocolate eyes glinting in the sunlight. He stood straight and regal, as he always did, and rubbed the forming stubble on his face. He was wearing clothes that English nobility would wear and stuck out like a sore thumb, but he was _here_.

"Going to keep staring at me?" Walter smiled and took a step forward. "I must take offence to that, Sara Taylor."

My legs gave way as I crumpled to the ground, but Walter caught me in his arms. He smiled at me and took my face in his hands. He lowered his face to mine, and our lips met. I could hardly believe it, but there he was. Home, with me and my family. I found strength for my legs and deepened our kiss, but I couldn't find the strength to stop my tears of joy.

When we finally did break away, Walter grinned at me. "I swear to love you forever, no matter what, Sara Taylor."

I returned a smile and Walter gently lowered his forehead onto mine. "And I love you, Walter Hugh." I wrapped my arms around him, and we both stood. My family held us just as tightly as we held each other. "Beyond the day I die."

I was home. Truly.


	47. Epilogue II

Epilogue II

_**2032**_

"How's your first day on the job been so far, Hirth?"

Daniel Viscard was the son of the captain of our division in the NYPD. He was smart, funny, and extremely annoying at some points. He was also my blonde-haired and blue-eyed partner.

I shrugged at him and adjusted the hat on my head. "Not bad. Not much action though."

He grinned at me. "Well, my dad's stuck me with you because you're the goddamn prodigy and he doesn't want to lose someone like you. So we've got the boring route."

I groaned. "_Stop_ calling me that! Your police quiz is easy if you use common sense!"

"Yeah, but not many nineteen-year-olds can make it into the force, kid." Daniel sighed and tapped at the wheel of our cruiser impatiently. "But I agree with you: we need more action."

"Damn right!" I rubbed my eyes, the contacts irritating me.

"You should take those damn things out," Daniel commented.

I huffed. "I don't want everyone staring at me."

"Have it your way then," Daniel relented (rather easily in my opinion), and shrugged to attempt to prove his indifference.

A few minutes later, a car sped past us, easily going above and beyond the speed limit. Daniel grinned at me, activated the sirens and began a pursuit. Luckily though, the driver slowed down and pulled over. When we imitated him, Daniel looked at me.

"I want you to take this one," he said. "I want to see how you'll do."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my notepad, as well as my ticket book. "Yeah, yeah. Watch me as I lose my temper."

"That's why I'm here, Hirth."

I stepped out of the car as Daniel gave me a thumbs-up. I rolled my eyes at him and approached the vehicle. The man driving was obviously in a hurry, since his fingers were tapping his steering wheel like Daniel had been.

I knocked on the window, signalling for him to roll it down. "All right sir, license and registration please."

He examined me for a second before he began digging into his glove box and his wallet. He was a young guy, probably only a bit older than I was, with jet-black hair and chocolate eyes. His vehicle wasn't particularly messy, either. Eventually, he handed me his ID and the registration of his car. I looked it over very meticulously.

"Is this your vehicle, sir?" I asked.

He nodded. "Um... yes. It is."

"It's under your name?"

"Yes." He tilted his head to the side, a devilish grin on his face. "If I may, you look too young to be an officer... Miss Hirth."

Oh, great. An Englishman... My lips pursed. "Spend time overseas then?"

"Well, I was born here, but I was sent to a boarding school in the United Kingdom, so I picked up on the accent." He shrugged uselessly. "I don't mind it. The women die over it though."

_And he's a playboy._ "Sir, do you know how fast you were driving just now?"

"Not fast at all, actually. I'm stopped."

_Smartass..._ "A few minutes ago, sir, you were going ten miles above the speed limit. Why're you in such a rush that you'd endanger the lives of others?"

"Well, that was blunt, wasn't it?" He grinned as I frowned. "I'm late for work, and my boss is a hard-ass. My car wouldn't start this morning, and everything so far has been going completely and utterly wrong. Except for you, Miss Hirth."

"Officer," I corrected him. "I'm going to give you a speeding ticket, and it's the last I want to hear of you. Pay by next week."

I finished writing down the charges (I'd given him a lower charge than usual, because I knew that feeling of bosses being hard-asses) and handed it to him. He hardly glanced at it before he took back his ID and his registration.

"Um... Officer?"

I rolled my eyes and turned around to meet him at his window again. "Yes?"

"I'm out of gas."

One epic facepalm later, the driver was in the back of our cruiser as we took him to his workplace. I glared at Daniel, who was grinning triumphantly.

"Sap," I growled at him.

He shrugged. "Man's got to get to work. Why not have him arrive in style?"

"Where's your cell phone?" I asked the man in the back.

He grinned. "I hadn't bought one yet. Been meaning to, but..."

We pulled up in front of the restaurant that he'd directed us to. Daniel made me get out of the car and open the door for him, which I'd grumbled darkly at. Still, I did, and the guy leaned on the door as he stood while it was opened.

"Next time, I'll open the door for you, all right?" he said, winking.

I slammed the door shut, making him jump out of the way. "Go to work, sir," I told him.

"It's Walker!" he called after me. "Walker Davis! Try to remember!"

"Not in your life..." I mumbled.

Daniel caught my comment and grinned. "Ooh. Seras Hirth has an admirer."

"An admirer who got a ticket from me," I retorted. "What time is it?"

"Five," Daniel answered. "The end of our shift. Want to go for coffee after?"

I shook my head. "I'm meeting my sister and my cousin for a movie tonight at seven, and I've got paperwork I need to do yet."

"Raincheck?"

"Yeah."

Two hours later, my older sister and younger cousin were headed to the movies. Charlene, my sister, had dark brown hair like me, but grey eyes from our mother. Addison had inherited the same grey eyes, considering that she was related to us from our mother's side, and also shared our dark hair. Frankly, I was the black sheep. I had natural red highlights in my hair and... _odd_ eyes, so I usually wore brown contacts.

"So, we can agree on this movie?" Charlene asked us as she drove us to the movies. She was only a few years older than me, but she still insisted on driving us around. Addison was just a year younger than I was.

"Yes!" my cousin exclaimed excitedly.

I rolled my eyes. "I suppose."

"Look, Seras, this is honestly the last sappy love-story we'll drag you along to," Charlene assured me (for the twentieth time in the last year). "Seriously."

"Mhm," I replied sarcastically. "Just wake me when it's over."

"Seras..." Addison tapped my shoulder. I looked back at her. "You have no heart," she declared, crossing her arms.

"Thank God! We've found the problem! It's a miracle!" Charlene whacked my head. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"Enough sass, Seras."

"Sassy Seras. Sassy Seras. Sassy Seras..." Addison chanted in the background.

I looked pleadingly at my older sister. "_Please_, Char! No one will miss her if we kill her now! I'm a cop! I can cover it up!"

"Seras..." Charlene chided.

"Yeah, Ser the care bear wouldn't be able to kill me if she wanted to..." I spun around in my seat and glared at Addison for the use of the nickname I hated the most. "What?"

"You know damn well what, so shut it!"

"It's like taking children to daycare..." Charlene grumbled. "We're here. Just try not to rip each other new assholes while I'm watching the movie."

One movie later, my eyes were still trying to adjust to the bright lights (I'd slept after all). Addison and Charlene had brought along Kleenexes and were going through them like a child with free cookies. I just wanted to go home and sleep.

"Oh, Seras..." Addison shoved a bag of popcorn into my hands. "Can you get me a refill? Please?"

"Sure." I slowly walked up to the counter, which was all but deserted. After all, it was a school night. No one was working, either, so I waited patiently for someone to come around the back.

"Well, well, well." I rolled my eyes at the cliché, but they widened once I realized that it fit so well. "We meet again, Officer."

_Shit..._ "Walker Davis," I grumbled in response. "I thought you worked at a restaurant?"

"My boss wouldn't like it if I pulled up in front of his theatre in a police cruiser," Walker said, grinning. "By the way, thanks for remembering my name! I've yet to know yours, Officer Hirth."

"Don't you ever give up?"

"I must take offence to that, Officer."

"You 'must'?"

"Of course, because I'm kind of English." I shook my head at that, hiding a grin. "Oh, and your contacts seem to have fallen out."

I paled, and almost moved to cover at least one of my eyes. "U-Um..."

"Oh, don't get so red. They're very becoming of you. I like them both."

I averted my eyes. "C-Can I just get a refill on the popcorn?"

"Certainly." I swore inwardly as he began putting popcorn back into the bag. "Butter?"

"Yeah," I said, remembering that Addison liked buttered popcorn. A few minutes later, Walker handed me the warm bag. "Thank-you, Walker."

"You're welcome...?" He trailed off, awaiting an answer.

Even though I was still averting my eyes, I rolled them. "Seras," I answered.

He grinned. "Seras. It's a start."

"Yeah, yeah..."

When I reached the car with the two sobbing saps, I opened the backseat door (since Addison was sitting in the passenger seat) and sat down, handing the bag to Addison.

"Your contacts are out," Charlene noted.

I nodded. "Yeah. Must've fallen out when I woke up."

"Contacts suck. You should just go naturally."

"Yeah, well, 'natural' people don't usually have a blue left eye and a gold right eye, last I checked."

"Still..."

"Hey! Whose number is this?!" Addison presented a torn piece of paper to me with dabs of greasy butter on it. It had a number on it, certainly.

I grabbed it out of her hand and dialled the number. _"Hey, you've reached the voicemail of Walker Davis. I'm unable to answer my cell, so try my home number. If I don't answer that, I'm at work! Leave a message—!"_

"_Asshole_!" I snarled as I ended the call. "He said he didn't _have_ a cell phone!"

Charlene laughed, having remembered the story I'd told her earlier about the man Daniel and I had driven to work. "Haha! This is blossoming into a _beautiful_ relationship!"

"Shut-_up_, Char!"

_** "Now is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning." — Winston Churchill**_

_**The End**_


	48. Author's Notes

Author's Notes

_**Story Theme: Life is Beautiful — Sixx A.M.**_

_** Trilogy Theme: In The End — Linkin Park**_

_** Final Theme for "Twenty Minutes": The Last Man — Clint Mansell**_

_** Final Theme for "Epilogue I": That Next Place — Thomas Newman**_

And now that that's out of the way, I'd like to thank you all for reading _Assassin's Creed: Ashes of the Star_. It's been a wild ride with Suna and co., and it couldn't have been done without your guys' support!

I'm sorry for how long it took, but with school it became really hard to properly post things on a self-made schedule at all. This summer was a great chance to finally bring it all together, and hopefully end it well for you guys.

I'm annoyed how there are a few inconsistencies within the stories, but it was hard to get many straight answers, considering how there are a lot of errors within the lore. Still, I tried my best, and I hope you all enjoyed.

There will definitely be a story revolving around the upcoming _Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag_, and it will feature not only Suna, but a new character as well, since I'll be doing some of my own research into time periods (time periods beyond Suna's birth, actually).

I'd like to thank these people in particular for reviewing: _**MasterAssassin2012**_, _**ShadowJ95**_, _**DanAlaya**_, _**Demonic Storm**_, _**RavingSunshine**_, _**AssassinsVow2012**_, _**Wolfpaw of Winterclan**_, _**Dessoestma**_, _**unknown author 5342215**_, _**JayMan551**_, _**lilmommy0911**_, and the few anonymous guests that also reviewed! I like reviews a lot.

There's something I'd like to make clear: Emma Hale and the guest characters that appeared within this story belong to _**MasterAssassin2012**_, who very graciously allowed me to use them since our stories were very related. I urge you all to give her _Assassin's Creed: Generation Y_ and _Assassin's Creed: Bloodlines_ stories a visit. _Generation Y_ is currently undergoing a heavy edit, with _Bloodlines_ soon to follow. Just as well, she will soon be writing a story which will once more include Suna and the "gift" Suna left behind for Emma. Keep an eye out for it! She has also been writing an _Elder Scrolls _fan-fiction which includes an alternate universe version of Taryn, my Dragonborn from my own _Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ fan-fiction. It includes spoilers from my fan-fiction, so read with caution!

Speaking of _The_ _Elder Scrolls_, I'll be working my butt off on it next, and it won't be on a hiatus _ever again_. I never put things on hiatus, and was quite annoyed that I did because I couldn't properly form what would happen next. Now that I have a pretty clear view, it's my top priority, and I plan to do the DLCs for it as well. I also plan to write something similar for _The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion_, with a new character and all (since it was the very first _Elder Scroll_ game I got into).

I've got a pretty big schedule, and since I've graduated high school I'll also be entering university, but I'm sure it isn't anything I can't handle. Now that I look back, I realize that I started my first fan-fiction in my grade nine year. Time flies, truly.

Once again, I hope you enjoyed Suna's trilogy! On behalf of Suna, safety and peace, friends! And thank-you again!


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